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Author of “THEO,” “KATfiLEEN” and “LINDSAY’S LUC 



JaRL’S DAUGHTER; 

AND OTHER STORIES. 

By Mrs. F. H. Burnett. 

-A-UTHOK, OF 

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AID OTHEE STOEIES. 



BY MRS. FRANCES HODGSON BURNETT. 

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CONTENTS. 


jarl’s daughter, 

THE MEN WHO LOVED ELIZABETH, 
WANTED, — A YOUNG PERSON, 


21 
- 75 
111 


1 




JARL’S DAUGHTER. 


% fob* ^torg. 

BY IBS. FRANCES HODGSON BURNETT. 

AUTHOR OF 

“KATHLEEN,” “ THEO,” “ PRETTY POLLY PEMBERTON,” 
“ MISS CRESPIGNY,” “A QUIET LIFE, ,, ETC. 


M RS. PENRYTH was fond of company, that 
was a well-established fact ; and another 
fact, equally well established, was that no one 
was better able to entertain people and make 
them enjoy themselves than she was. 

It seemed as though the handsome sea-side 
villa, bright Penrydden, which was so charm- 
ingly situated on the coast of Cornwall, must 
have been built purposely for the accommoda- 
tion of guests, and those guests the favored ones 
of Mrs. Penryth. It was such a comfortable, 
pleasant place, with its flowers, and gardens, 

( 21 ) 


22 


jael’s daughter. 


and terraces. There was such a splendid view 
of the country from one window, and such a 
glorious look-out on the sea from another; the 
grounds were so admirably suited for sentimental 
strolls, and the lawn so admirably adapted to 
croquet. 

Just now the establishment was pretty well 
filled, to Mrs. Penryth’s great delight. There 
were two lawyers, a doctor, and a soldier, one 
widow, one matron, and two or three pretty girls. 
The widow was just in an interesting stage of 
mourning, and consequently a trifle dangerous ; 
the matron was as great a matchmaker as good 
old Mrs. Penryth herself ; the girls were all paired 
off with agreeable masculines, and accordingly, 
in the second week, every one pronounced them- 
selves charmed. 

Prominent among her sister belles shone pretty 
Bessie Arbuthnot, the fairest, the most charming, 
and Mrs. Penryth’s greatest favorite. 

Whereas Belle, and Alice, and Maude, were 


jael’s daughter. 


23 


blondes, and Jennie and Kate were brunettes, 
Bessie Arbuthnot was neither blonde nor bru- 
nette, but far more dangerous than either. 

There she sits in the open window, resting 
her folded hands on the wide sill, and lifting her 
face to old Mr. Penryth, as he talks to her, — 
just the sort of girl to throw either blonde or 
brunette into the shade. A fair, aristocratic- 
looking face, with a beautiful mouth, whose 
delicate upper lip has just the least perceptible 
hauteur in its curves; large, handsome brown 
eyes, with a sweet look in them, and a great deal 
of soft brown hair. She was very girlish and 
very innocent- looking, but at the same time 
there was plenty of style in her girlish manner, 
and a touch of high-bred reserve in her air, 
which was at once natural and graceful. 

Mrs. Penryth was of the opinion that the 
whole world could not produce another Bessie 
Arbuthnot, and her good-natured old husband 
quite agreed with her. They had known Bessie 


24 jarl’s daughter. 

ever since she was a young lady in short dresses 
and French grammars, and from that time up- 
ward had regarded it as their special mission to 
adore her. 

She had spent the whole of the summer with 
them, and it had been a very happy one. Early 
in the spring Mrs. Penryth’s health had been a 
little frail, and Bessie had left London, and come 
to take care of her. It had been rather quiet at 
first, perhaps, after the gay end of “the season;” 
but Bessie Arbuthnot made a very charming 
young home goddess, as she nursed and petted 
her friend, and read the papers, and poured out 
old Mr. Penryth’s tea. But April brought a 
visitor, who claimed. to be a friend. 

“ Capt. Marc Desbro,” his card said, and Bessie 
smiled and blushed a little when Mrs. Penryth 
handed it to her, and said she remembered meet- 
ing the gentleman several times, and that he had 
asked her permission to call upon her when busi- 
ness should carry him to Cornwall. 


jael’s daughter. 


25 


And this had been the beginning of a very 
interesting story. April had passed, and May 
drawing to a close, when one evening, after a 
long ride with Capt. Marc, pretty Bessie came 
to her old friend in a very charming state of 
blushing tremor, and after a little fluttered hesi- 
tation that was very pretty, held out her fair 
hand with a ring on the engagement finger, 
faltering out something about “ Marc,” and 
“ promises ” and “ Christmas,” and ended with 
more blushes, and a few such delicious tears as I 
suppose most tender-hearted girls shed when the 
great change comes over their calm lives. 

Dear old Mrs. Penryth had cried a little, too. 
Not much, of course, but just a few affectionate 
tears springing from her warm, old heart, as she 
kissed the girl, and fondled her, and hoped she 
would be happy. “Happy always, my dear,” 
she said, in her sweet, kindly voice, “and a good, 
good woman and wife.” 

And now it was the beginning of June, and 


26 


jakl’s daughtek. 


Capt. Marc had been to London and back half 
a dozen times, to pay his fair betrothed flying 
visits ; and here he was again with the rest of 
the company, the handsomest man, the most 
popular, and the best croquet-player of all the 
party, and in her tender, fresh, young heart, 
pretty Bessie was adoring and making a hero 
and a god of him. 

As she sat at the open window, talking to 
Mr. Penryth, she was thinking of Capt. Marc, 
wondering where he was. He had gone out soon 
after breakfast, saying he was going on the bay 
to fish, and would not be back until evening, and 
he had not yet returned. She was thinking of 
him always, it seemed to her : and even now she 
could scarcely hear her host’s voice as he chatted 
for her benefit. 

“ There ! ” he said at last, “ look at that girl, 
Bessie, my deal’, and tell me if you ever saw a 
handsomer model for a heroine ! ” 

Bessie turned her eyes upon the beach with 


jarl’s daughter. 


27 


her soft, ready smile, but it brightened into 
something of admiration, as she caught sight of 
the figure to which he had called her attention. 

Out in the sunlight, upon the shining sand, a 
girl was standing, and from their place at the 
window they could see her clearly. She was tall, 
but poorly dressed, in the rough dress of the 
fisherwomen, who were so plentiful on that wild 
coast; but in spite of it, no one could have 
looked at her without a sense of wondering 
admiration. 

Her figure was perfect. The face, which she 
shaded with one brown hand, as she gazed out 
upon the sea, was like the face of some Nubian 
queen in its dark -eyed, olive - skinned beauty: 
her magnificent unkempt hair hung loose over 
her ragged, scarlet cloak, and the sea-breeze 
blew it out like a black banner. Still the oddly 
picturesque perfection seemed a little out of 
place. Her ragged, half -savage dress showed 
her to be no more than the rest of the hard- 


28 


jakl’s daughter. 


worked, hard -faring coast women: her slumber- 
ous eyes had the stolid gaze theirs had, and as 
she stood there, picturesque and statue-like in the 
sunshine, she was nothing more, with all her 
beauty, but a splendid, idle, soulless creature, 
with a magnificent physique. 

“ How handsome she is ! ” said Bessie. “ Who 
is she, Mr. Penryth ? ” 

“ One of the fishermen’s daughters,” he an- 
swered. “ Poor girl ! Her father is one of the 
worst of a bad crew, and she has been brought 
up in her mother’s steps, to wait on him and row 
his boat, living as she can. By-the-way, Anne, 
turning to his wife, “have you spoken to Jarl 
about that girl again ? ” 

Mrs. Penryth shook her head. 

“ Yes, but it is always the same story. He 
can’t spare her, and wouldn’t, if he could. He 
doesn’t want her made a fine lady of, he says. 
I am afraid we shall be obliged to give it up, 
Martin.” 


jarl’s daughter. 


29 


“ You see,” said the old gentleman, explana- 
torily to Bessie, “ Mrs. Penryth and I had a little 
plan on hand. We thought we could help the 
girl to be more respectable by taking charge of 
her. She is too pretty to be left to herself ; but 
her father is against us.” 

“ What a pity ! ” said Bessie, and then her 
eyes went back to the shore again. 

The girl was sauntering on slowly, sometimes 
burying her bare, arched feet in the sand, and 
now and then stopping to shade her face with 
her hand, and look out over the sea. It seemed 
as if she was waiting for something, and it proved 
she was, for at last a boat rounded the point, and 
as it came in sight, she hurried off to meet it. 

There were two men in the boat Bessie could 
see, but they were too far away to be easily 
recognized, though one appeared to be tall and 
well-dressed, and was evidently a gentleman. 
She watched them idly as they rowed in, and 
then the tall one jumped out and raised his hat 


30 


jarl’s daughter. 


to the girl as she reached them. They seemed 
to exchange a few words, for they stood together 
several minutes, the man gallant and graceful, 
the girl looking a little abashed and awkward as 
he spoke. Then she got into the boat, taking 
the oars he had left, and as they rowed off he 
touched his hat again with a careless ease, and 
turned away. 

“ It looks a little like Marc — Capt. Desbro,” 
said Bessie, blushing faintly at her unconscious 
mistake. 

Old Mr. Penryth bent forward. 

“It does look like him, to be sure,” he said, 
and then a curious, anxious cloud fell on his 
good-natured face. “It is Marc,” he added. 

And so it was. In a few moments he was near 
enough to allow of their seeing him quite plainly, 
as he strode slowly toward the house, and entered 
the wide, iron gates. 

Bessie was still at the window when he came 
into the room, and, of course, their eyes met 


jarl’s daughter. 


31 


first, as lovers’ eyes always do. Hers were very 
bright, and soft, and tender ; and there was a 
pretty sort of gladness in their brown depths ; 
but, strange to say, his were a little troubled, or 
conscious, as it were, and a faint, scarcely per- 
ceptible flush rose to his face as he came forward. 

But if anything had annoyed him, it lost its 
power as he took his seat by her side. He began 
to tell her about his fishing -excursion, laughing 
at his awkwardness, or ill-luck, for his spoils had 
scarcely paid for his labor. 

“I should have enjoyed myself more at home 
with you,” he said, dropping his voice in his 
favorite fashion as he spoke. 

“ It wasn’t worth the trouble ! ” And Bessie 
blushed softly, and taking up her neglected net- 
ting, began to work again. 

“ I saw you land,” she said, at last. “ Mr. 
Penryth and I were watching Jarl’s daughter, 
and we saw her go to meet the boat. How 
beautiful she is ! Don’t you think so ? ” 


32 


JAEL S DAUGHTER. 


“Yes,” said Capt. Marc, catching her dainty 
work lightly, and prisoning the pretty fingers in 
its meshes. “ But how do you suppose I can 
have eyes for Jarl’s daughter?” 

But careless as the action was, it might almost 
have had a motive, and careless as the graceful 
reply sounded, his handsome face had flushed 
slightly as he spoke. 

He was not quite at ease that evening, it 
seemed. However unaccountable his restlessness 
was, he was certainly restless. Bessie could not 
help noticing it as she watched him, and she told 
him so with a very charming interestedness. 

“ I am tired,” he said, smiling down at her in 
the tender, yet half-unconscious way that always 
set her heart beating. “ The fishing was too 
much for me.” 

They were out on the lawn, then, taking a 
turn at croquet, and his usual skill seemed to 
have quite deserted him. After a few terribly 
unfortunate hits, by which he roused the indig- 


jarl’s daughter. 


33 


nation of his partners, he flung his mallet away 
and gave up his place ; and when, in the course 
of a quarter of an hour, Bessie turned to the 
seat on which he had been lounging, she found 
he was gone. 

Of course, she did not like it. A pretty girl, 
with an engagement-ring on her finger, naturally 
does not feel flattered at the thought that, after 
a day’s absence, her lover can feel happy any- 
where but in her presence. “He might have 
stayed,” she said, inwardly, but that was all; 
though it must be confessed she devoted her at- 
tention to her companion in the game, a trifle 
more exclusively than she would have done if she 
had not felt slightly piqued. 

“ I don’t see Capt. Desbro,” she said, carelessly, 
to the gentleman, at last. 

Noel Craigmiles looked down at her sweet face 
adoringly, as he always did, for Desbro’s good 
luck had been his misfortune, and Bessie Arbuth- 
not was the grand passion of his life. Her most 
2 


34 


jarl’s daughter. 


careless tone had a meaning to him, and just now 
he had been inwardly calling his rival a presump- 
tuous fool to lose a moment he might have lived 
by her side. 

“ I saw one of the servants come and speak to 
him, and he left the grounds,” he said. “ A mat- 
ter of business, I suppose.” 

Bessie did not make any reply. She had a sen- 
sitive horror of appearing to exhibit her claims, 
so she finished her game with the most graceful 
sang froid in the world. 

Capt. Marc did not make his appearance at all 
that evening until supper-time ; but then he made 
up for lost opportunities during the moonlight 
tete-a-tete he enjoyed with Miss Arbuthnot prom- 
enading the stone terrace. 

Every one acknowledged him to be a fascinating 
man, but no one had ever felt the power of his 
fascinations as pretty, warm-hearted Bessie did. 
His tender words and tender ways made him a 
hero in her innocent eyes, and she looked up to 


jarl’s daughter. 


35 


him as adoringly and trustingly as none but such 
girls can look up to a man. Knowing so little of 
the world, she never dreamed of thinking that, 
perhaps, he had called other women the same sweet- 
sounding names that made her heart beat so 
swiftly, and that, perhaps, other lips than hers had 
trembled under his kisses. As for him, he was as 
much in love as it was possible for a man of his 
nature to be. Such men usually end their indif- 
ferent lives by winning just such sweet women as 
other men would have died for — it is the way of 
the world — and Bessie Arbuthnot was pretty and 
stylish, and suited his fastidiousness as few other 
girls would have done. 

He kissed her at the door before he let her go, 
and held her hand a moment, caressingly. 

“ Good-night, darling ! ” he whispered. And in 
the fashion of men of his kind, he threw a tender 
truth into the words which made them beautiful ; 
and Bessie carried them in her heart, and dreamed 
of them, but never dreamed that the lips that 


36 


jarl’s daughter. 


uttered them would break her fair faith in the 
world forever. 

It was almost a week after this that she saw 
Jarl’s daughter again. Cleo the girl’s name was, 
or more properly Cleopatra, as one of her father’s 
patrons had named her for the sake of her dark 
eyes. A grand-sounding name it was, but the 
first part of it had clung to her, perhaps, because 
no commoner one seemed suited to her. 

Among other amusements, a boating-excursion 
had been made up, and Jarl’s boat was engaged, 
and as Bessie stepped into it with Desbro, she saw 
the girl sitting at the prow, her statuesque face 
turned seaward, and her grand, sombre eyes 
dropped gloomily upon the waves. 

Her dress was a little neater than it had been 
before, and her hair was folded crown-like, in a 
wonder of a coil, across her head, but her slender, 
arched feet were bare, and the scarlet cloak fall- 
ing back, showed her beautiful brown arm, 
rounded and perfect as the arms of some Greek 
model. 


jael’s daughter. 


37 


She raised her head quickly when Capt. Marc 
spoke to her, and the red blood flamed across her 
handsome face, as if she was startled, or angry; 
but the next moment she turned away again, and 
sat silent, idly trailing her hand through the 
water. 

Bessie watched her with a sort of interest in 
her picturesque perfection, and prompted by a 
kindly girlish curiosity tried to talk to her, but it 
was of no avail. She could elicit nothing but 
monosyllables, and those given with a sort of 
reluctant ungraciousness. But during the whole 
of the trip to their destination, she could not 
help noticing that whenever she turned sudden- 
ly, she found the great, brilliant eyes fixed upon 
her with a curious, passionate scrutiny, and as 
soon as the girl perceived herself noticed, her 
gaze was withdrawn. 

It would have been scarcely possible to find 
two girls so startlingly unlike as these two were. 
The one with her pretty, proud face, her dainty 


38 


jakl’s daughter. 


dress, and her delicate hands, the other with her 
dark-eyed, olive-skinned beauty and uncultured 
splendor. 

Capt. Marc, leaning back in his seat, holding 
Bessie Arbuthnot’s dainty lace-covered parasol, 
and listening to her sweet, pure -toned voice, 
looked from one face to the other, from the dark 
to the fair, and oddly enough seemed to forget 
himself, and was not quite coherent. Indeed, he 
became so absent at length, that Bessie stopped 
and looked up at him in a little astonishment. 
Perhaps the glance was inopportune, for she saw 
that his attention was fixed on the figure at the 
prow, and Jarl’s daughter, sitting as before, with 
her statuesque head turned seaward, showed 
a flame of velvet-scarlet on her dark cheek, and 
a strange glow in her handsome eyes. 

Under some circumstances Bessie would have 
smiled the soft, ready smile, and spoken again, 
but something in the girl’s expression made her 
pause abruptly. The vague admiration in his 
eyes, the touch of warmth half-startled her. 


jarl’s daughter. 


39 


Bessie was a proud girl, proud as such high- 
bred, high-spirited girls ever are, and though she 
did not dream for an instant that the beautiful, 
barbarous creature might prove a rival, a faint 
coldness showed itself in her manner when she 
finished what she had been saying. 

It was a gay party that landed among the 
rocks. Even Capt. Marc lost his absent-minded- 
ness, and hovered round his fair betrothed with 
his usual debonnair air of proprietorship. 

In spite of Alice, and Maud, and Grace, half 
Mrs. Penryth’s masculine guests would have given 
their good-looking heads to bend over Bessie 
Arbuthnot as Desbro bent over her, and receive 
the sweet smiles that came so readily when he 
spoke. But Fate is Fate, and the emerald ring 
on the slim, white finger, had dashed many bright 
hopes to the ground; so the quandom adorers 
philosophically attached themselves to the pretty 
girls, who were not averse to listening to their 
soft nothings, and only now and then apostro- 


40 


jarl’s daughter. 


phized Capt Marc as “ a lucky fellow ! ” But 
there was one man who did not find his fate so 
easy to bear, and whom no Alice or Maud could 
ever have consoled for the loss of the woman he 
coveted. That man was Noel Craigmiles. 

He was not Bessie’s ideal — never had been, 
never could be, but he was a very loyal, honest 
young man, and very much in love with her. 
From his eighteenth year he had adored Bessie 
Arbuthnot, and at twenty-five he was adoring 
her still, even while she wore Marc Desbro’s ring 
on her finger, and Marc Desbro’s kisses on her 
lips. He was very much in love, I say, and he 
was content to talk to her when Marc was away, 
and wait on her, and pick up her handkerchief. 

He had not much occupation in that line this 
evening, for the captain was even more lover-like 
than usual. So, when dinner was over, he wan- 
dered away from the rest, and took refuge among 
a group of rocks, where there was a fine view of 
the Point, and he could be alone with his half- 
bitter dreams. 


jarl’s daughter. 


41 


He was leaning against a great, gray stone, 
cigar in hand, watching the sea, and feeling a 
little sore against the world generally, when he 
was roused from his reverie by a touch upon his 
arm, and turning round sharply, he was surprised 
to see the girl Cleo standing at his side. 

Her eyes were glowing restlessly, and her 
whole face was full of a sort of suppressed pas- 
sionate resentfulness, which contrasted strangely 
with her sullen awkwardness as she spoke to him. 
It seemed as though some fierce impulse moved 
her. 

“1 suppose I hain’t got no right to ask ques- 
tions of gentlefolks like you ! ” she said, roughly 
enough, but still without the odd Cornish burr in 
her speech. “ I thought, maybe, you ’d answer 
me, if any one would. You don’t look as grand 
as the rest.” 

Noel smiled in spite of his astonishment. 

“ What do you wish to know ? ” he asked. 

“ About her ! ” motioning with her head over 


42 


jarl’s daughter. 


her shoulder to where Bessie stood, chatting to 
Marc Desbro and writing on the sand with her 
dainty parasol. 

Following her motion, Noel saw this, and turn- 
ing back to the girl’s face in a curious surprise, 
he noticed that she had caught her breath sharply, 
and was twisting her fingers in an odd, uncon- 
scious way, round a piece of shabby, black rib- 
bon, that hung from her shapely neck. He 
could not help observing this ribbon, for its end 
was concealed in her bosom, and the fierceness in 
her clinging fingers expressed itself so plainly. 

“Well?” he said. 

“ I thought, maybe, she might want some one 
to wait on her — a — a sort of servant.” She 
was twisting the ribbon round and round ner- 
vously, and speaking in a confused faltering. 

“I thought, maybe, she — she’d take me. I’m 
tired of doing a man’s work, and living a dog’s 
life. I ’d like to go with her ; she ’s pretty and 
rich, and I ’ve heard say, kind enough.” 


jarl’s daughter. 


43 


“ I am sorry I don’t know,” said Noel. “ You 
had better ask her yourself. Or, probably, Mrs. 
Penryth might do something for you.” 

There was a pause, and then she spoke again. 

“ She ’ll need a servant, when she ’s married,” 
she said, the words coming slowly. “ My father 
told me she was going to be married soon. Do 
you think she is ? ” 

There was something so strange in her manner 
that Noel found himself staring at her. Her 
slow, handsome face had an odd, repressed excite- 
ment in it, and her hand had wound itself so 
tightly in the narrow ribbon, that it seemed as if 
it would cut the flesh. He was not used to mys- 
tery, and this savored so strongly of the myste- 
rious, that he could only stare at her in blank 
amazement. 

For a moment she met his glance stolidly, then 
her eyes fell, and her nervous, unconscious fin- 
gers twisted the slender silk so tightly, that even 
as he gazed at her it snapped and broke, and as 


44 


jarl’s daughter. 


it parted, something slipped from it and rolled 
against the rock with a tinkling sound. 

He saw it fall, and saw her spring to reach it, 
and then, strangely enough, her excitement 
seemed to communicate itself to him, for at the 
first sight of it, his face flushed hotly, and he 
sprang toward her, catching her arm as she took 
the trinket from the sand. 

“ Show it to me ! ” he demanded, almost 
fiercely ; and as he spoke, his grasp upon her 
had more roughness in it than he had ever 
dreamed he could have used toward any woman. 

“ Show it to me, I say ! ” he repeated. 

But she held it fast, and stood there panting, 
with her hand clenched against her breast. 

He loosened his hold a little, and spoke to her 
sternly. 

“ I saw it as it fell,” he said. “ I know whose 
face it holds. I have seen it in Marc Desbro’s 
hand a hundred times.” 

She did not oppose him a moment more. She 


jarl’s daughter. 


45 


laid the false, handsome-faced picture in his 
hand, and slipped away from him with a low, 
frightened cry, the red on her cheeks turning to 
white, the white to red again, as she leaned 
against the rock, trembling from head to foot. 

“ Don’t tell on me ! ” she almost gasped. 
“ You ’ve found me out, but don’t tell on me. 
Father would kill me. It won’t do any harm to 
let me know. Is she going to marry — him ? ” 

“ Wait a minute,” said Noel, struck to the core 
of his heart. “ I saw a man and a woman walk- 
ing in the moonlight last night. I saw them the 
night before, and the night before that. Who 
was it ? ” 

“ It was us,” she said, shivering. “ Me and 
him. He’s a fine gentleman, and I’m like dirt 
under his feet, you know ; but he says he loves 
me and I’m pretty. I’m named for a queen, he 
told me; and he says the name suits me.” 

She was trembling, and reddening, and pale- 
ing — shaking as if in a vague terror of what she 
had told him. 


46 


jarl’s daughter. 


Honest Noel stood up and stared at her blankly, 
and then, in his recognition of the truth, a rough 
word slipped out of his mouth. 

“ Good heavens ! ” he said, “ what a villain he 
is ! Listen here,” he went on. “ Take my ad- 
vice, my girl, and go home, and keep out of his 
way.” 

He stooped and stretched out his hand instinctr 
ively, she had turned so coldly white. But she 
drew hack, and leaned against the rock, motion- 
ing him away. 

“ He ’s been lying to one of us,” she said, with 
a sudden strange steadiness. “ Who ’s he been 
lying to ? Is he going to marry her ? ” 

“ He has been lying to both of you,” said 
Noel, with blazing eyes ; “ but he is going to 
marry Miss Arbuthnot.” 

“ How long has it been settled ? ” said the girl, 
through her white teeth. 

“ Three months.” 

There was a long silence, in which Jarl’s 


jarl’s daughter. 


47 


daughter stood braced, with her hands behind 
her, against the rock, her face stony and pallid in 
fierce resistlessness. She moved at last, and 
turned round to him, folding her cloak around 
her. 

“Well,” she said, stolidly, “I’ll go now. I 
might as well; I know all I came for. I daresay 
you ’ll tell, if you want to tell. I shan’t ask you 
to keep quiet ; but I ’d better be dead than alive, 
when father knows. I ’d better be dead. He ’d 
tramp me under his feet this minute.” 

“Wait,” said Noel, in a horror-stricken whis- 
per. “ What are you talking about ? I — Do you 
mean the — the worst ? ” 

She had been trying to brave it out when she 
•last spoke, but his sudden horror, as the whole 
shameful truth dawned upon him, broke her har- 
dihood down, and she struck her clenched hand 
upon the rock with a low, fierce cry, her face 
scarlet. 

“ The worst ! ” she panted. “ His dogs know 


48 


/ 

jarl’s daughter. 

more than I do — his dogs are treated better. 
I ’m handsomer, maybe — that ’s all ; but it is the 
worst, even to such as me.” 

Noel fairly groaned. Thinking of pretty, in- 
nocent Bessie, his very heart sickened. It was 
such a horrible blow to him, so unlooked for ! 
Even if he had not trusted Marc Desbro wholly, 
he would never have dreamed of this. But as he 
looked at the girl’s blanched, defiant face, the 
recollection of many circumstances he had barely 
noticed at the time of their occurrence, came back 
to him, and with torturing distinctness. 

The first day he had seen Desbro, he had come 
upon him on the beach, as, spy-glass to his eyes, 
he watched a little boat coming shoreward, slowly, 
with a woman at the oars. * 

He had not known him then as one of his fel- 
low guests, and had not noticed the woman’s face 
as she sprang out. Women who rowed, and 
fished, and did men’s work, were plentiful enough 
at Penrydden, and he did not give her a second 


jarl’s daughter. 


49 


thought. He had not understood the fishing 
excursions that kept Miss Arbuthnot’s lover on the 
bay through the long summer days, though he 
often wondered at them. Poor Noel ! he had 
blamed his rival as a careless wooer, but he had 
been too generous ever to accuse him of even the 
disposition to wrong his sweet betrothed. “ He’s 
a lucky fellow, confound it ! ” he had sighed some- 
times, “ but he suits her better than I should 
have done, I suppose ! ” And he had felt a good- 
natured sort of reverence for the man who had 
been so much more fortunate than himself, and 
who seemed to bear his good fortune' so easily 
and gracefully. 

In some men’s minds there would have been a 
faint sense of triumph in a rival’s unworthiness. 
Not so with poor, honest Noel. There was only 
one feeling in his heart, a feeling which was a 
struggling combination of horror, indignation, 
and pitying grief. Pity for innocent, brown-eyed 
Bessie, indignation and disgust for the systematic 
3 


50 


jarl’s daughter. 


treachery which the man who professed to love 
her had displayed. What could he say to this 
passionate-faced, fierce-eyed young creature, who 
stood before him, defying her terror and shame 
with a dogged resolution that might have grown 
out of her savage life. He watched her for a 
silent moment, and then, unavoidably, a question 
leaped out. 

“ What are you going to do ? ” 

She turned her handsome eyes slowly upon 
him, as if she had never thought of the future, 
and then a strange shadow settled on them as her 
face turned seaward again. She did not say a 
word, but the slow motion made Noel shudder, he 
scarcely knew why. 

The very next moment she flamed up again 
with a burning, angry color, as the sound of gay 
voices floated across the sands. 

“ They ’re calling for you,” she said, bitterly. 
“ That ’s her voice now. It minds me of a ring- 
ing of bells. 1 ’m going back to my place.” And 


jael’s daughter. 


51 


without another word, she turned off and walked 
away in the sunshine, with her statuesque head 
erect as the head of some savage queen. 

It was sometime before Noel could calm him- 
self sufficiently to face the group that was advanc- 
ing toward him. 

It was Bessie Arbuthnot who first steadied him 
with the sound of her sweet voice. 

“We want you, Mr. Craigmiles. Jarl is going 
to show us a wonder of a cave. Where have you 
been hiding yourself ? ” 

“ He has been sentimentalizing with the young 
Egyptian person, Miss Arbuthnot,” put in gay 
Lance Armour. “ I saw him a few minutes ago.” 

“With whom?” asked Bessie, in innocent 
surprise. 

“With Jarl’s daughter,” said Noel, quietly. 
“But not sentimentalizing, I can assure you. 
She has been telling me a story.” 

He could not help this slight thrust at the 
courtly, treacherous face smiling at Bessie’s 


52 


jarl’s daughter. 


side ; and it told, for Marc Desbro’s eye turned 
upon him with a quick, questioning flash, and his 
clear skin flushed an angry, restless red. 

“ Craigmiles’s chivalry is of the inflammable 
sort,” he put in, with a faint sneer in his voice. 
“ But what about the cave ? The rest are wait- 
ing for us.” 

He drew the small, exquisitely - gloved hand 
more firmly through his arm as he spoke, and 
his half -sneer ended with a touch of triumph. 
The game was in his hands for the present, at 
least, and he thought he could play it out. 

He did not release the hand when they 
reached the cave ; he held it in his as Jarl piloted 
them through the darkness, and once Noel saw 
him raise it carelessly to his lips in the graceful 
fashion that was natural to him. The touch of 
carelessness that sometimes showed itself was 
lost in a mood even more fascinating than usual. 
Always brilliant and a favorite, this evening he 
exerted himself to perfection, and pretty Bessie 


jarl’s daughter. 


53 


came back to the shore with a soft tint of happy 
rose on her cheek, and a tender brightness in 
her brown eyes. 

They were somewhat in advance of the re- 
mainder of the party when they returned to the 
boats, and glancing up, Bessie saw the girl Cleo 
seated silently in her old place, just as she had 
been seated before, her strange, handsome face 
turned seaward, a sort of steady calm making her 
seem almost weird in her quiet. She did not 
move even when they took their seats, laughing 
and chattering ; and it was not until Bessie had 
spoken to her that she appeared to know that 
they were near her. 

“ I am afraid you are tired of waiting,” said 
Bessie’s sweet, cultivated voice. The girl turned 
toward them, and Bessie almost started. 

The rich, olive-tinted skin had faded to a dead, 
rigid pallor, the sombre eyes were steadily expres- 
sionless, while the face was a stony blank. 

“ How pale you are,” said Bessie, gently. 


54 


JARL’S DAUGHTER. 


“ You look as if you were ill. Pray have my 
seat, and let this gentleman take your oars.” 

“ No,” she said briefly. “ I am quite well, at 
least I am used to it ; and it did not matter,” and 
without another word she averted her face again. 
She held her place, just with the same defiant im- 
mobility until they reached home, rowing steadily 
without a word or look at them. 

The sun was dipping redly into the waves 
when they arrived at their journey’s end, and as 
the girl drew her boat in, Noel Craigmiles saw 
Desbro bend over her on pretence of assisting her 
to secure it, and speak to her. There were only a 
few words said, and then the dark face was lifted, 
darker than ever with uncontrolled passion and 
bitterness. 

“ You ’d better go,” she said, fiercely. “ I can 
do the work — she’s waiting for you.” 

There was a very pretty glow in Miss Arbuth- 
not’s delicate face that evening. Perhaps, now 
and then, of late, it had occurred to her that this 


jarl’s daughter. 


55 


handsome hero of hers was a thought abstracted, 
or preoccupied, though she had not attempted to 
account for it. But this day had been such a 
happy one, that even these faint shadows were 
forgotten. Capt. Marc hovered around her with 
the tenderest of faces — was so lover-like, indeed, 
that Mrs. Penryth, smiling softly to herself, began 
to romance over the days to come on an unlim- 
ited scale, and mentally arranged such a wedding 
as Penrydden had never heard of. 

She was seated in her comfortable easy-chair, 
alternately knitting and casting benign glances at 
a group round the bagatelle-table, when she was 
somewhat surprised by the touch of a hand laid 
gently upon her arm, and turning her head, she 
met the grave, troubled face of her husband. 

“ Annie,” he said, in a low voice, “ if you can 
leave the room without attracting attention, I 
should like you to come into the library.” 

All the old lady’s visions faded into astonish- 
ment. A love of the mysterious had never been 


56 


jarl’s daughter. 


one of the weaknesses of her better-half, and his 
serious face startled her ; so, holding her knitting 
in her hand, she followed him quietly at once. 

The hall and stair-case were lighted brilliantly, 
but the library was in darkness, and entering the 
open door, she dimly saw her husband standing 
at the table, evidently watching the moonlit 
grounds intently. 

“ Why, Martin ! ” she began, when he turned 
upon her, and stopped her. 

“ My dear,” he said, “ come to the window.” 

The tone of his voice excited her strangely, and 
she laid her hand upon his shoulder, anxiously 
asking him what was the matter. 

“ I want you to convince me that my eyes are 
not deceiving me,” he answered. “ Near the elm- 
trees there is a woman standing in a strip of 
moonlight — who is it ? ” 

The moon had lighted the grounds perfectly, 
and one glance showed Mrs. Penryth a figure 
wearing a scarlet cloak, and leaning against a 
tree. 


jarl’s daughter. 


57 


“ It is Jarl’s daughter ! ” she exclaimed, sur- 
prisedly. “ What can she be waiting for ! ” 

“ Say ‘ who is she waiting for ! ’ ” was his 
reply. “ She was there last night ; she was there 
the night before. I have been watching her for 
nearly a month.” 

“Martin,” she began, falteringly. “Surely — 
surely — ” 

He interrupted her again. 

“ I have been watching her for weeks,” he 
said. “There is a man in the house who is a 
patron of her father’s. Three weeks ago I met 
the girl with him on the beach, and since then I 
have watched them constantly. I have seen 
them together a dozen times since. Last night I 
saw them part at that very tree, and he kissed 
her. Can you guess the man’s name ? ” 

“ Martin — ” in the same faltering tone, “ you 
said ‘ a patron of Jarl’s ’ — not Marc Desbro, 
Martin, for my pretty Bessie’s sake. Say it is 
not Marc Desbro ! ” 

His reply came upon her like a blow. 


58 


jarl’s daughter. 


“ It is Marc Desbro.” 

If the story had been painful to Noel Craig- 
miles, it was terrible to the affectionate, motherly 
woman to whom Bessie Arbuthnot was almost 
the dearest creature on earth. 

“I cannot believe it!” she broke forth. “I 
cannot, cannot believe it ! There must be some 
mistake.” 

He pointed to the silent figure in the moon- 
light, and as he pointed, another form suddenly 
showed itself crossing the lawn, and at the first 
sight of it Mrs. Penryth broke into an exclama- 
tion. 

“ Am I right ? ” asked her husband. “ Do you 
recognize him ? ” 

The game of bagatelle was over when the host 
and hostess returned to the parlor, and Bessie 
was standing at the head of the table, chatting 
merrily as she idly knocked the balls about with 
her cue. Some croquet enthusiast had been pro- 
posing a moonlight game, and they were discuss- 


jarl’s daughter. 


59 


ing it. As the door opened, Lance Armour, who 
was industriously flirting with three of the pret- 
tiest girls at once, turned suddenly round. 

“Where is Desbro?” he exclaimed. “We 
want him, you know. Craigmiles, I thought I 
saw him talking to you a few minutes ago. 

Bessie raised her eyes in a faint surprise. A 
few minutes before he had certainly spoken to 
her, and she had imagined him still in the room. 

“He was here a moment since,” she said, 
smiling. “ I did not see him leave the room by 
the door. He must have vanished into thin air.” 

“ He did not pass out through the door,” said 
Mrs. Bayless, an interesting widow. “ I saw him 
look at his watch, and. step out of the low window 
behind you. Probably he had an engagement.” 
(The interesting widow had a little womanish 
spite against Miss Arbuthnot, and liked to “ thaw 
her a little,” as she put it.) 

But secure in the recollection of her afternoon, 
Bessie laid down her cue, smiling. 


60 


jael’s daughter. 


“ Then we must play without him,” she said. 
“ Who is ready ? ” 

They were all ready, they said, and so the 
players departed in couples, one or two of the 
most coquettishly inclined young ladies knotting 
bewitching little webs of lace handkerchiefs 
under their pretty chins, in a style which was, to 
say the least of it, tantalizing in the extreme. 

The night was beautiful, and the croquet- 
players enthusiastic, so, in the excitement of the 
game, Capt. Marc was forgotten by all for the 
time being. But when the final victorious stroke 
was made, and most of the party had returned 
to the parlors once more, Bessie, as she sauntered, 
through the deserted grounds with Noel Craig- 
miles, found herself wondering faintly at her 
lover’s absence. 

They had been talking gayly as they prome- 
naded, but at last a silence had fallen upon them 
almost unconsciously. Perhaps the thoughts of 
both had wandered in the same track, but Craig- 


jarl’s daughter. 


61 


miles was thinking of the dark, defiant eyes, in 
their fierce bitterness, while Bessie remembered 
only the echo of the tender promise she had 
renewed that happy evening on the sunlit, danc- 
ing sea. 

Neither had spoken for some moments, when 
turning into a shaded avenue, Bessie suddenly 
stopped, holding her escort back. 

“ I thought I heard voices,” she said, laughing 
a little. “ I was sure I heard some one speaking 
among the trees,” she added, reticent of saying 
how quickly she had recognized one voice at 
least. 

But the next moment her laugh died away, 
and she looked up at Noel’s pale face with a 
sudden questioning glance, for the voice had 
raised itself, and came to them with terrible 
distinctness from the next path. 

“It is impossible. You know I could not risk 
leaving her, without notice, Cleo. Be reasonable, 
for heaven’s sake ! You have not even told me 
what you want me for.” 


62 


jarl’s daughter. 


One terrible, breathless moment, and then Noel 
Craigmiles’ heart grew horribly cold as he real- 
ized his position. The voice was Marc Desbro’s, 
and the girl who loved him, and was his promised 
wife, had recognized it. Bessie stood silent, not 
moving, only holding to his arm with a strength 
of which he could not have believed her slender 
fingers capable. In a moment, another voice 
came to them, even clearer and more distinct in 
its hurried passion than the first had been. 

“What did I want you for?” flinging the 
words out with a sound that rung on the still 
night air. “ What did you want me for ? Why 
didn’t you leave me alone ? I could have drag- 
ged out my life like the rest of ’em.” She was 
fairly panting and gasping. “ You called me a 
queen, then — a queen! I’m less than the dead 
leaves you tramp on now. I found out to-day — 
you are going to marry her. I am to be scorned 
and shunned when she ’s your wife. There — 
that ’s what I want you for ! ” 


jarl’s daughter. 


63 


Noel glanced down at the delicate face on 
which the moonlight struck whitely — it was icily, 
coldly calm, and immobile as marble. Bessie was 
looking at the pretty hand that lay upon his arm, 
and he felt she only saw the great, sparkling 
emerald on the slender fore-finger — the engage- 
mentoring — but she was listening steadily. 

The girl went on, a sudden wild change break- 
ing her passion into terrified despair, and it 
seemed as though she was wringing her hands. 

“You said I was handsomer than her — so I 
am. I know I am, but I never cared until you 
told me so. Don’t send me away — ” The 
sound of her voice told that she had slipped to 
the earth, and lay groveling at his feet. “ Let me 
go with you — let me follow you — let me be 
your servant — I’m used to it. If she ’s your 
wife, I ’ll be her servant, too. I only want to be 
near you.” 

“ Listen to me,” said Desbro’s voice. “ Cleo, 
get up. I have been a mad fool, and I must put 
a stop to this.” 


64 


j.arl’s daughter. 


To Craigmiles it was a terrible five minutes 
that followed, as he waited, held, against his will, 
by the relentless, girlish hand. It was evident 
that Bessie meant to spare herself nothing, and 
so she remained, until she had heard the truth to 
its shameful, bitter end. 

For three months this man had deliberately 
deceived and insulted her in the face of her trust 
and love ; and now icily and steadily she listened, 
for she was hearing the solution of the neglect 
her tender, girlish heart had so readily forgiven. 
The blow was a terrible one ; her belief in the 
world, that had seemed so fair, was crushed and 
broken forever and ever ; but it was not a blow 
that would kill her. She was too proud and high- 
bred to be blighted by the stereotyped broken 
heart. She would live over it. She could never 
believe, as she had believed an hour ago ; never 
trust as she had trusted ; never dream as she had 
dreamed ; but she would live ; and face life 
bravely, nevertheless. 

At last the voices ceased. 


jarl’s daughter. 


65 


“ Go back quietly, like a good girl,” Marc 
Desbro had said, “ and I will come to you to- 
morrow.” And they had seen the girl pass the 
end of the avenue with an excited swiftness ; 
and after a moment’s waiting, Desbro’s feet 
sounded on the gravel-walk, and Bessie, loosening 
her grasp on Craigmiles’ arm, spoke to him for 
the first time. 

“ May I ask a favor from you ? ” she said, in a 
clear, quick voice. “ I think you are my friend 
— if I have a friend in the world,” with faint 
bitterness. 

“ What can I do for you ? ” he asked, trying 
to speak quietly. 

“ I wish to meet Capt. Desbro as he comes up 
the avenue. Will you walk with me toward him, 
and stay with me until I have spoken a dozen 
words to him ? ” 

She was pale to the lips. He acquiesced with 
an inclination of his head. 

The advancing feet were coming to the turn in 

4 


66 


JARl/S DAUGHTER. 


the path now, and a few steps, a very few, brought 
them face to face in the fair moonlight with Marc 
Desbro. 

Something very like an oath broke from the 
gallant captain’s lips at his first glance at the fair, 
haughty face of his Nemesis, and for a breath’s 
space there was a dead silence. Then the eme- 
rald ring was slipped from Miss Arbuthnot’s 
finger, and the white hand extended without a 
tremor. 

“You will understand me, Capt. Desbro,” she 
said, with icy distinctness. “ Let me thank you 
for opening my eyes to my humiliation, however 
unconsciously. You have insulted me, but I have 
never given you the right to despise me. Good- 
evening.” 

And before he had time to utter a word, he 
was standing alone, holding the emerald in his 
palm, staring at it in blind, impotent rage. 

Until they reached the house, Noel did not 
even dare to look at his companion ; but when 


jakl’s daughter. 


67 


the light of the great hall lamp fell upon her 
face, her deathly paleness was something terrible 
to see, and he spoke in spite of himself. 

“ Let me go to Mrs. Penryth,” he said. “ I 
am afraid this has been too much for you, Miss 
Arbuthnot.” 

Her hand went to her side with an unconscious- 
ness that said worlds, but her eyes met his glance 
freer from tears than his own. 

“No; thank you,” she answered. “I should 
rather be alone. If Mrs. Penryth asks for me, 
pray tell her I am unwell, and shall not come 
down stairs again. Good-night.” 

He watched her as she crossed the hall with a 
vague, stricken wonder as to how all this would 
end ; he watched her as she passed up the stair- 
case, until he could see her no longer, and then 
he walked back to the open hall -door and out on 
to the long veranda. 

Even in the few minutes since their walk 
from the avenue, a great, dull cloud had swept up 


68 


jarl’s daughter. 


from the sea and darkened the moonlight, and as 
he stepped out into the air, a low, sullen moan 
crept over the waste of shore. 

He stood there a moment listening to it, and 
then turned restlessly into the house again. 

“It sounds like a banshee,” he said. “We 
shall have a storm to-night.” 

As she entered her chamber, the same sound 
had greeted Bessie Arbuthnot, but to her it boded 
nothing. As she locked the door, she was think- 
ing only of one thing, looking one truth sternly 
and steadily in the face. All was over ! All was 
over ! That was what she said to herself again 
and again. She said it as she lighted a taper and 
opened her desk ; she said it as she took her 
once precious letters out and laid them together. 

Her face burnt like flame when she touched 
them. She wanted to be free of them and her 
humiliation. How he had insulted her — she a 
lady, and proud as the proudest in the land ! 
How he had dragged her in the dust and tram- 


jarl’s daughter. 


69 


pled upon her heart ! She was wild with shame 
and humiliation now, but she felt as if the first 
fierce sting over she should turn to ice. 

She made the letters into a package, laid them 
away in her desk, and shut the lid. Then she 
went to the open window and knelt down. 

She knelt there for an hour, for two hours, 
watching the heavy clouds roll up, and listening 
to the rising wind as it moaned across the sand. 
She hardly knew how the time passed. After- 
wards, when all was over, she often wondered if 
some terrible change had not come upon her, 
forcing her innocent, happy girlhood far behind, 
as she knelt there, glancing now and then at the 
clenched, white hand, on which the jeweled ring 
had so lately shone. 

It required an effort to enter the breakfast- 
parlor calmly the next morning. In the long 
hours Bessie had lain awake listening to the rag- 
ing storm that lashed the waves upon the beach 5 
she had felt an excited fear of the ordeal, and as 


70 


jarl’s daughter. 


she dressed before the mirror, she wondered that 
there was so little change in her fair face. It was 
calm enough, as calm as it had ever been, but for 
the faint touch of a new expression that, perhaps, 
made it seem a thought colder. 

Her color heightened a little as she opened the 
breakfastrroom door, for Marc Desbro was stand- 
ing at the window, and at the sound of her 
entrance turned quickly. He was pale as death, 
and there was a look in his eyes, which was 
almost like horror. 

“ Oh, Miss Arbuthnot ! ” exclaimed the pretty 
widow, excitedly. 

“ Oh, Bessie, my dear ! ” broke in Mrs. Penryth, 
with a colorless face, and then, with a new feeling, 
the girl noticed awe-stricken countenances all 
around her, and stopped. 

“ There has been a terrible accident,” said old 
Mr. Penryth, his voice sounding almost sternly. 
“That daughter of Jarl’s — you know her, Bessie 
— they found her on the beach this morning, 
poor girl ” 


jarl’s daughter. 


71 


“Not — not dead?” Bessie interrupted, in a 
sharp whisper. 

It seemed as if he dared not answer her, or 
could not, and Noel Craigmiles took up the story, 
his eyes bent upon the floor. 

“ There was a storm last night,” he spoke in a 
low voice, “ and the girl was seen to round the 
Point, on her way home, at a late hour. It is 
supposed she had been out secretly, for she was 
alone, and the storm must have overtaken her. 
The boat was swamped, and her body came 
ashore with the tide.” 

And so it was. Fate had ended the drama at 
a stroke, and in one of her good old friends’ rooms, 
the beautiful, wronged creature lay dead. 

A few hours later Bessie went into the dark- 
ened chamber. The coarse, rough dress had 
been changed for a pretty, girlish wrapper ; the 
splendid hair fell loose upon the white pillow; 
the hands were folded in the old, old fashion, 
upon her stilled heart. But the dark, handsome 


72 


jael’s daughter. 


face was steady, even then, in its old statuesque 
fixedness of passionate despair. 

There was only one thing to be done, Bessie 
felt, when she closed the door, and left the dead 
girl to the stillness. She recalled the letters up 
stairs. 

She went and got them at once, and bringing 
them down, found Marc Desbro in the parlor 
alone. She scarcely glanced at him, as she laid 
the package on the table, at his side. 

“ These are your letters,” she said, simply, and 
turned to go. 

But he did not intend to lose his prize without 
an effort. He followed her quickly, overtook 
her, and looking down into her fair, haughty 
face, his handsome, treacherous eyes aglow, 
whispered, 

“ Bessie, Bessie, is this to be the end ? ” 

The last throe of her dead love for him stained 
her white skin with scarlet, as she drew back 
with a faint gesture of contempt, a contempt 


jakl’s daughter. 


73 


which even the kindest -hearted woman will 
sometimes show, unconsciously. 

“ The end ! ” she echoed, in her clear, haughty 
voice. “ Capt. Desbro, I am a woman.” And 
not deigning to glance backward, she passed him, 
as if he had been a stone. 

She told Mrs. Penryth the whole story that 
night, when Marc Desbro had left them. 

They were sitting alone by the fire when 
Bessie held out her slender, ringless hand, that 
her friend might see it. 

“ Can you guess what it means ? ” she began, 
with a faint, bitter smile. But the next moment 
she faltered under the kindly, pitying eyes, and 
broke down into the first tears she had shed. 

“Don’t say you are sorry for me,” she ex- 
claimed passionately. “ It is an old story, I dare 
say, and I have only suffered as other women 
suffer. I shall live it down, you know; but I 
must go away, Mrs. Penryth. I must go back to 
London, and try to forget it.” 


74 


jarl’s daughter. 


A week later, the party at Penrydden was 
broken up, for when Miss Arbuthnot returned to 
London, the remainder of the guests followed, 
one by one. For several months society Avaited 
for the Avedding, and for a year wondered what 
Capt. Desbro had done to deserve banishment; 
but to this day no one has guessed the real 
truth. 

Bessie Arbuthnot has lived three years since 
then, and at twenty -two her sweet face wins her 
a reputation greater than ever. 

“ There is not much chance for fellows like us, 
though,” said a philosophical adorer, the other 
day. “ Craigmiles is the lucky man, if there is 
one.” 

And, perhaps he was right, for on her last visit 
to Penrydden, Bessie spoke of her old adorer to 
Mrs. Penryth. 

“ I am not romantic, now,” she said, “ and I 
§ have quite outlived the old love. I am not un- 
happy, and I am going to marry the only man 
I honestly respect: that man is Noel Craigmiles.” 


TIE MET WHO LOVED ELIZABETH. 

BY MRS. FRANCES HODGSON BORNETT. 


H ! ” cried Elizabeth, “ what a miserable 



v_y day it is ! What a wretched day ! How 
wretched the whole world is ! How can any one 
ever be happy ! ” She said it under her breath, 
making a little gesture, as if she would have 
wrung her hands, if she had dared, and hurrying 
along the deserted road in a blind, desperate 
fashion, scarcely noting where she was going. 

It had been a wretched day for her, in truth. 
She had done this dull, jphill afternoon, what she 
could never undo; and though, just now, she 
told herself that she did not wish to undo any- 
thing, and had only acted with reasonable pride 
and self -respect, the consequences to her reason- 
able pride went rather hard with her. 


( 75 ) 


76 THE MEN WHO LOYED ELIZABETH. 

“ Lissie,” her lover had said, ten minutes before, 
when she held out to him her ring — the ring she 
had only worn three months. “ Darling, think 
one minute.” 

“ Think ! ” she cried, pale with proud wrath, 
“ I have thought too long. I will marry no man 
whose friends say he stoops to me. I would not 
make such a marriage for worlds — for worlds 
upon worlds.” 

Capt. Max caught her unwilling hands, and 
held them, his handsome young face aglow. 

“Not for love’s sake?” he said. “Not when 
the man would rather lose the world than you? 
You might forgive them for love’s sake.” 

But Elizabeth was as proud as she was poor. 
If she had been more fortunate she might have 
been less stubborn and lofty; if she had been an 
heiress, and a lily of the field, she might even 
have been charmingly humble ; but, as old Miss 
Tipton’s companion, she was an indomitable 
creature, indeed. Was she not a lady? Were 


THE MEN WHO LOVED ELIZABETH. 77 

these people, who sneered at her poverty, and 
accused her of trying to play her cards well, 
better born, or more highly cultivated than she 
herself was? Was not she Elizabeth Fabien, ten 
times as handsome, and twenty times more bril- 
liant than those thin, vapid sisters, and their cold, 
vapid, old mother ? She was in no mood to listen 
to reason; she refused to be touched by any ap- 
peal; she was, indeed, so obstinate, and fierce, 
and scornful, that it was small wonder that appeal 
became reproach, and reproach accusation, and 
accusation anger ; and the end of it all was a hot, 
indignant quarrel, and a bitter, desperate parting ; 
and here she was going back over the lonely 
road again, and the captain was half way home, 
his pulses throbbing, and his heart on fire. 

“It is all over!” he groaned, tempestuously. 
“‘It ’s all over ! And I never loved any living 
creature as I love her. And it is all the fault of 
those women. Commend me to a man’s woman- 
kind for making him wretched, if their taste runs 


78 THE MEN WHO LOVED ELIZABETH. 

in that direction. Now Louise and Marie will 
rest in peace, and my mother will feel that she 
has nothing to complain of.” 

And, on her side, Elizabeth went her way, feel- 
ing sad enough. Life had bloomed out suddenly 
for her six months ago, when, dining out with 
her patroness, she had found herself taken down 
to the table by a stalwart, cheerful cavalier, who 
was unworldly enough to see only her youth and 
beauty, and admire them as honestly as if she 
had been the most important young person in the 
room, instead of the most insignificant. On that 
occasion, Capt. Max had succumbed to Fate, and 
fallen in love with her, and had been so much in 
earnest that he had even cultivated Miss Tipton, 
and struggled with unremitted ardor to render 
himself worthy in her eyes to be invited to tea; 
and from accidental meetings they had advanced 
to trysts : and three months after he and Eliza- 
beth found themselves engaged. 

But here was the end of it ! Elizabeth clenched 


THE MEN WHO LOVED ELIZABETH. 79 

her ringless hand, when she drew in sight of Miss 
Tipton’s great, brick house, and rambling garden. 
The tall, gallant figure would never saunter up 
the gravel -walk again, and make her heart leap 
with joy; the tinkling old piano would only play 
hymns for Miss Tipton; there would be no more 
accompaniments to the gay, clear voice. It 
w r ould be better to die at once than live and miss 
the secret bliss she had known in this brief sum- 
mer. 

She heard Miss Tipton talking to a visitor 
Avhen she entered the hall, and she recognized 
familiar tones with a feeling of wild impatience. 
She slipped by the parlor -door lightly, hoping to 
escape notice, but at the head of the stair -case a 
servant met her with a message. 

“ Miss Tipton told me to tell you, when you 
came in, that Mr. Gregory Renfrew is with her. 
She wishes you to come to them in the parlor.” 

u Very well,” said Elizabeth, hopelessly. 

She went to her room, and took off her hat. 


80 THE MEN WHO LOVED ELIZABETH. 

It was a black hat, with a scarlet poppy in it; 
and Capt. Max had admired it, with his customary 
lover- like extravagance. He had admired her 
dress, too; and they had had a laugh at Miss 
Tipton’s disapproval of it. It was an old, black, 
velvet gown of Elizabeth’s dead mother, which 
she had made over into a walking-suit with much 
contriving, and Miss Tipton had shaken her head 
on seeing it. 

“ It is a dress hardly befitting your position, 
Elizabeth,” she had remarked. “ But,” as if 
deriving consolation from the fact, “ it is some- 
what shabby, it is true. That is one thing. One 
can see it has been made over.” 

So even the picturesque shabbiness of her dress 
reminded the girl of her lover. Now that no one 
could see her, she wrung her hands in earnest. 

“ Why could not Gregory Renfrew stay at 
home?” she said. “To-day of all days. Am I 
to have no rest ? ” 

There was anger as well as misery in her 


THE MEN WHO LOVED ELIZABETH. 81 

mood. She always knew what Mr. Gregory Ken- 
frew came for; and as he came nearly every day, 
she found him monotonous at best. At the worst, 
she found him rasping to her nerves, and rather 
apt to rouse her temper. His object in visiting 
the house was the same one as Capt. Max’s had 
been. He came because he was hopelessly in 
love with her, and could not stay away. But she 
could not excuse him as she had excused Capt. 
Max. If he had not been so gentle, so unobtru- 
sive, and so earnest, she would have almost hated 
him a little. 

When she opened the parlor- door, he rose to 
greet her. He was a pale, little man, with a 
thin, insignificant figure, an expression between a 
patient humor and sadness, and with no attractive 
outward attribute but well -fitting clothes. He 
had a long, thin, fair mustache, and a bad habit 
of continually twisting it; and he was twisting it 
in his most nervous manner when he advanced 
to meet Elizabeth. 

5 


82 THE MEN WHO LOVED ELIZABETH. 

“ Mr. Renfrew has been waiting here an hour, 
Elizabeth,” said Miss Tipton, rebukingly. 

“Waiting?” said Elizabeth. What right had 
he to wait for her, as if he had a claim upon her ? 
She gave him a coldly impatient glance, from 
under her sweeping lashes. “ It is a great pity,” 
she added. 

Renfrew met this glance with his customary 
long-suffering smile. 

“ I have been admiring your chrysanthemums,” 
he said, meekly. And Miss Tipton has been good 
enough to promise me a bouquet. My flowers 
do not flourish as yours do, Miss Elizabeth. My 
chrysanthemums look mouldy at this time of the 
year.” 

“They wouldn’t if your gardener understood 
them,” commented Elizabeth ; and then she 
turned to her patroness, bent upon showing that 
it was because she was obliged to obey others that 
he would get his chrysanthemums, and not be- 
cause she anticipated any enjoyment of a senti- 


THE MEN WHO LOVED ELIZABETH. 83 


mental stroll in the dismal garden. “ Must I go 
and gather the flowers now ? ” she asked. 

“Yes,” said Miss Tipton, with a displeased 
glance over her spectacles. She disapproved of 
Elizabeth’s tendency to repulse this suitor, on the 
same ground that she disapproved of her beauty, 
and her furbished up velvet gown, as “unbefit- 
ting her station.” With the wisdom of three-score 
years, she could not see why, “ a young person,” 
utterly destitute of prospects, should not he 
grateful for the attentions of a man, who had a 
large income, a successful business, the handsom- 
est house and grounds in the neighborhood, and 
no incumbrances whatever. 

But Elizabeth was too young to be discreet. 
She was young enough to be even a little cruel in 
her scorn of such advantages. She took her 
flower -scissors from their place, and left the 
room, almost ignoring the fact that Renfrew was 
following her. He always followed her, when 
Miss Tipton gave him an opportunity. 


84 THE MEN WHO LOVED ELIZABETH. 


It was dismal enough outside. A chill wind 
was whistling through the trees in a ghostly way, 
and tossing the dead leaves in heaps in corners 
of the gravel -walks. Only the chrysanthemums, 
and a few late flowers, showed their scant bloom. 
It was damp under foot, and gray overhead. But 
the desolate chilliness was only in accordance with 
poor Elizabeth’s heartache. She bent over a 
flower-bed, and began to snip the blossoms off 
•with her scissors, while her companion stood at 
her side and watched her. He was not as stupid 
as she fancied. If she had looked up at him, she 
would have learned as much. Gradually, as he 
watched her, a singularly tender expression re- 
vealed itself in his meagre face; and by -and -by 
his hand stole up to his mustache, and began the 
nervous stroking. But for several minutes he 
did not speak. At length, however, a stray, red 
leaf, carried by a little gust of wind, fell upon 
Elizabeth’s black braids, and lifting her head in a 
petulant gesture, she saw something that disturbed 
her. 


THE MEN WHO LOVED ELIZABETH. 85 

She stood upright before him, her white chry- 
santhemums held loosely in the folds of her black 
dress, and, unwittingly, her eyes questioned him 
as openly as if she had spoken. And so he 
answered her. Before he had come into the 
garden, he had wondered how he should begin. 
But now it seemed the most natural thing in the 
world that he should speak out, as he had been 
on the verge of doing a hundred times before. 

“ Elizabeth,” he said, “I have been thinking 
to-day of some lines I chanced upon last night. 

‘ He either fears his fate too much, 

Or his deserts are small, 

Who fears to put it to the touch, 

And win or lose it all.’ 

I — I came out here, Elizabeth, to put my fate to 
the touch, and win or lose all.” 

Elizabeth neither spoke nor stirred. Because 
this had come this afternoon, it was harder to 
bear than it would have been at any other time. 
It was a kind of shock to her. She had known 
he would say foolish things, as she called them, 


86 THE MEN WHO LOYED ELIZABETH. 

but she had not expected he would dare so much 
as this. And then, too, she found that, all at 
once, his whole aspect had altered somehow. It 
was almost as if he had gained strength and 
manliness. At this moment he did not look 
afraid of her, or exactly insignificant. 

“ I love you, Elizabeth,” he said, with simple 
directness. 

Elizabeth was conscious of a suddenly sharp 
pain. She had used to think that when he said 
this to her, she would be angry, and now she did 
not feel angry at all, only puzzled and sad. 

“ Oh, no ! ” she cried. “ Don’t, don’t say that ! ” 

“ But I must say it,” he answered, in a voice 
shaken with his deep emotion. “ I must say it, 
though I have been so often convinced that it 
would be of no use. A man cannot love a woman, 
as I love you, and not tell her so, even — even if 
he despairs, as I do, Elizabeth.” And his hands 
falling at his sides, he stood looking at her, in 
passionate misery. “I have loved you a long 


THE MEN WHO LOVED ELIZABETH. 87 

time,” he said; “from the first. And, at the 
first, I sometimes fancied that I might win you; 
but of late my hope has died out, and to-day it is 
my despair that speaks. It is impossible that you 
could love, is it not, Elizabeth ? ” 

“Yes, it is impossible,” said Elizabeth. It 
could never be ! ” 

She did not mean to be cruel to him ; but, re- 
membering Max, and her last summer, she forgot 
that her tone might sound vehement, in its earn- 
estness of decision. 

“ Never ! ” she said. “ No, never, never ! ” 

It was a very brief love -scene. He said no 
more — made no further appeal. There was a 
silence for a few moments, and then he held out 
his hands for the chrysanthemums. 

“Let me carry them for you,” he said. “You 
have gathered enough. Thank you for having 
taken the trouble.” 

They went slowly back to the house, and Eliza- 
beth, pale and disturbed, arranged his bouquet in 


1 


88 THE MEN WHO LOVED ELIZABETH. 

silence. She slipped up stairs as soon as he was 
gone, hoping that by tea-time Miss Tipton would 
have forgotten that she had any questions to ask. 

She threw a shawl over her shoulders, and 
crouched down upon the floor, in a corner of the 
deep window. She always took possession of this 
corner when she was either miserable or very 
happy ; and this afternoon surely her mood was 
desolate enough. But the truth was, she did not 
realize what she had done. 

In the first glow of her anger she had been sure 
of herself ; but when she became cooler, her heart 
would fail her. It was a girl’s heart, warm with 
young romance, and it would be hard to conquer. 

There had been a great deal of opposition to 
her engagement. If he had trifled with her, or 
treated her with falsehood and cruelty, Capt. Max 
Desmond’s relatives would have found it easy to 
forgive and excuse him; but for his folly in 
engaging himself to a vain young woman, who 
had nothing to bring him but her vanity and her 


THE MEN WHO LOVED ELIZABETH. 89 


great eyes, they had no excuse. It was a mad- 
ness not to be palliated; and they were deter- 
mined that it should not be consummated easily. 
So, from the first, Elizabeth had found her lot a 
hard one. Her proud spirit could not brook it. 
She was slighted, and ignored, and worse than 
all, accused of having played desperately for high 
stakes. She had maneuvered, and had been by 
no means too delicate, her enemies managed to 
insinuate. If they had dared to call her openly 
a bold and dangerous creature, they would have 
done it; but not daring so much openly, they 
went as far as they might. They gave their 
friends to understand that Capt. Max was a 
victim ; and as they made no secret of their sen- 
timents, Elizabeth soon discovered what her future 
position among them would be, and at last was 
goaded to this madness of sacrificing her love for 
the sake of her pride. 

As she sat, crouching in the cold, her fate 
looked so hard, that she grew rebellious. 


90 THE MEN WHO LOYED ELIZABETH. 

“ Everything is against me,” she said, with a 
sob. “ Everything is always against me. Since 
it was to end like this, why need I ever have seen 
him ? I had enough to bear before.” 

She laid her head upon the window-ledge, and 
cried, in an unrestrained, impetuous fashion. 
She felt even bitter against Max, because — be- 
cause — well, she did not know exactly why. 
She only felt, tempestuously, that she had been 
wronged and robbed of her happiness. 

When she went down to pour out Miss Tipton’s 
tea, the old lady looked at her querulously. 

“ Your eyes are red, Elizabeth,” she said. 
“ Your temper has been getting the better of you, 
as usual.” 

“It is the wind,” answered Elizabeth, rather 
haughtily. “ One cannot stand in the wind for 
half an hour without feeling the effects of it. It 
is wretched outside.” 

“ Tut, tut ! That is nonsense ! ” taking off her 
spectacles. “ What was Gregory Renfrew saying 
to you ? ” 


THE MEN WHO LOYED ELIZABETH. 91 

Elizabeth sat down at the table, and put a lump 
of sugar into a teacup, feeling stormy and obsti- 
nate. 

“ He was saying that his chrysanthemums 
were mouldy — ” 

“ Tut, tut ! ” again. “ He is a foolish fellow, 
and you are a foolish girl. You had better let 
him speak, and you had better listen to him than 
to that big, stupid Desmond. You are wasting 
your time. He has no backbone, that Desmond, 
or he would make those ridiculous women hold 
their tongues. They are always abusing you, 
and sneering at you. You are not as proud as 
your mother was, Elizabeth.” 

Elizabeth’s eyes flashed, and she pressed her 
lips together. Here was a new sting, and it 
cleared the way for new bitterness. Her feeling 
of resentment against her lover began to take a 
more tangible form. Yes, it was true. He ought 
to have been strong enough to defend her against 
three vapid women. He ought to have known 


92 THE MEN WHO LOVED ELIZABETH. 

how to crush out their venom at the outset. He 
had shown himself weak. Even this garrulous 
old woman had detected his faultiness, and could 
condemn it. Meaningly or unmeaningly, Miss 
Tipton had sown a dragon’s tooth. 

Elizabeth had fancied that, having learned his 
fate, Renfrew would remain at home ; but she 
found herself wrong. After an absence of a 
week, he began to come again as faithfully as 
ever. He developed a pathetic fondness for Miss 
Tipton’s society. They played cards together, 
and talked endlessly about their mutual house- 
hold difficulties, while Elizabeth sat apart and 
worked at a hideous cushion for her patroness, 
who was interested in a peculiarly purposeless 
fancy fair. The girl used to listen to their con- 
versations, and feel scornful. But one night, as 
she was listening, she received a dreadful stab. 

“ The Chesworths have come,” remarked Gre- 
gory. “They are with the Desmonds — Doris 
and all.” 


THE MEN WHO LOVED ELIZABETH. 93 

“ Doris?” said Miss Tipton. “One may easily 
guess what that means. The Desmonds have had 
their eye upon Doris since she was a child. They 
intend that she shall marry Max. The money 
which her grandmother left her is too nice a dot 
to go out of the family.” 

Elizabeth began to work very fast. Her heart 
beat fiercely, and her cheeks flamed. But Gre- 
gory Renfrew answered undisturbedly. Being 
the man he was, he rarely heard either news or 
scandal, and, for reasons of her own, Miss Tipton 
had not chosen to tell him of Elizabeth’s engage- 
ment. The Desmond women he disliked so 
intensely, that he avoided them as he would have 
done a plague. Accordingly, they had not had 
the opportunity to give him their version of their 
brother’s story. 

“ Doris is a handsome creature,” he said, “ and 
a charming girl. The very girl to make Max the 
best of wives. I know what order of woman 
Max needs. He is a good fellow, a good, gener- 


94 THE MEN WHO LOVED ELIZABETH. 

ous fellow, and he should marry well. He will, 
too. I should think few women would refuse 
him ; ” not looking at Elizabeth, but smiling with 
his characteristic sad patience. “I went to 
school with him,” he added, “ and he was always 
lucky.” 

Elizabeth laid down her work, and left the room 
on pretence of going for fresh silk. She ran up 
the stairs rapidly, blinded with tears. 

“ Oh ! ” was her resentful cry. “ He might 
have waited a little longer. It is very soon to 
begin again. It must be his fault. He had no 
need to stay if he did not want to see the girl. 
I would have gone away the hour she came, if I 
had been in his place. He must know about their 
plans. He does know, and he likes them.” 

She was so desperate, that she even descended 
to the poor little trick of using Gregory Renfrew 
as a means of gratifying her curiosity. She went 
back to the parlor again, and inveigling him away 
from Miss Tipton, drew him to her own side, and 


THE MEN WHO LOVED ELIZABETH. 95 

led him into an artful conversation. She made 
him talk to her about Capt. Max and the Ches- 
worths. She wanted to know about this Doris ; 
she must know about her. Was she such a 
beauty ? How old was she ? What was her 
style ? What was this about her money ? 

Gregory answered her questions innocently 
enough, at first, but at length some false note in 
her voice betrayed her feverish eagerness, and he 
looked at her in sad amazement. Her cheeks 
were hot, her hands were trembling; she was 
making blunders in her work. A suspicion of the 
truth began to reveal itself to him slowly. What 
a mistake he had made ! How blind he had been, 
not to guess at this before ! Through some odd 
chance, he had never met Max at the house, but 
he had known that he came there. And was it 
not natural that he should have come there with 
a purpose ? And being so genial and handsome a 
fellow, was it not natural that he should have 
been successful ? 


96 THE MEN WHO LOVED ELIZABETH. 


“ Did I understand Miss Tipton to say that 
Capt. Desmond was engaged to Miss Doris Ches- 
worth ? ” Elizabeth faltered, weakly. 

“No,” he answered, still regarding her down- 
cast face with sorrowful eyes. “ No, Elizabeth.” 

“But,” she persisted, “isn’t he, isn’t there a 
sort of understanding ; isn’t it almost the same 
thing ? ” 

“No,” with an honest courage that did him 
credit, under the circumstances. “ I do not think 
so. The two families would approve of the match 
it is said. That is all.” 

But Elizabeth would not let herself believe him. 
Here was still another grievance for her, and she 
was unreasonable enough to seize hold upon it. 
Then she made up her mind to see Doris Ches- 
worth and her lover together, and judge for 
herself. All the week she kept her eyes upon 
the road, and once or twice was rewarded by the 
sight of the Desmond carriage driving by, with 
the feminine members of the household, and their 


THE MEN WHO LOVED ELIZABETH. 97 

guests; but she did not see Max until Sunday. 
On Sunday morning she got up feeling feverish 
and miserable. Looking in the glass, the sight of 
her own face startled her. She was pale, and 
even haggard. 

“ I will go to church, this morning, and see 
them,” she said. “ But they shall not see me. 
How dreadfully I look ! I am like a hideous old 
maid. I am not Elizabeth Fabien at all.” 

She went to the church the Desmond family 
attended, and took her place in a dark, high pew, 
near the door. Just before the beginning of the 
service, the door opened, and there entered first 
her enemies, and then her lover, with a compan- 
ion. It was Doris Chesworth, of course, and she 
was even a greater beauty than Elizabeth had 
feared. The girl’s heart burned within her, as 
the fair face passed her shadowy corner. She 
watched the two all the morning, and was filled 
with bitter, jealous pangs. She had thought to 
try to leave the church without being seen, but 
6 


98 THE MEN WHO LOVED ELIZABETH. 


as they were passing her on their way out, a 
sudden temptation assailed her, and she gave way 
to it. She emerged from the darkness just as Max 
neared her, and the next instant his glance fell 
upon her pale, scornful face. Its bitterness was 
so full of accusation, that it cut him to the quick. 
Under cover of the morning crowd, he caught her 
hand, and fairly crushed it. 

“ Elizabeth,” he whispered, in impassioned ap- 
peal. “ Elizabeth ! ” 

But she dragged her hand away, and darting 
one cruel glance at him, forced her way past. 

She appeared before Miss Tipton, like a ghost, 
at dinner. She had tortured herself beyond en- 
durance. 

“ Who preached ? ” asked the old lady. “ What 
was the text?” 

“ I did not see who preached,” said Elizabeth, 
with the indifferent daring of cold despair. “ I 
did not hear the text. I know nothing about it.” 

How she suffered during the next two months ! 


THE MEN WHO LOVED ELIZABETH. 99 


She gave herself up entirely to a belief in her 
lover’s falsehood before six weeks were ended. 
She believed the rumors she heard, and, as usual, 
rumor was active. Perhaps the feminine Des- 
monds assisted it in their anxiety. Capt. Max, 
said the gossips, was very attentive to his mother’s 
guest. He was to be seen with her upon all occa- 
sions. It would be an excellent match. Some- 
times the visitors, who said these things, glanced 
aside at Elizabeth, who bent over her work in 
cold silence. The time came at last when the 
sword fell. A caller came one morning who had 
heard of a positive engagement. Mrs. Desmond 
had announced it to a select few. That night 
Gregory Renfrew came, and found Elizabeth in a 
strange mood, a dreadful mood. She cared for 
nothing any longer, and so she was not afraid to 
ask what she wished to know. 

“ Is it true that Capt. Desmond is engaged to 
Doris Chesworth ? ” she demanded. 

Her face was like stone, white and hard. 


100 THE MEN WHO LOVED ELIZABETH. 


Gregory hesitated at the sight of it; but he had 
heard the story, too, and was obliged to speak. 

“ I am not sure,” he faltered. “ One hears so 
many things.” 

“ Yes, you are sure,” said Elizabeth. “ You 
know it is true. He is going to marry her. And 
he was engaged to me three months ago.” 

Gregory started. He had not fancied that she 
would ever tell him this. ' But she went on with 
grim hauteur of manner. 

“ It is very soon to be engaged again,” she 
said. “ It is very soon. He might have waited. 
But then, perhaps, he has forgotten that he ever 
was engaged before. Men like him soon forget; 
and I am not like Doris Chesworth. I am only 
Elizabeth, and he was afraid of those women.” 

She spent an hour kneeling by her window that 
night. She had never felt so utterly desolate 
since the night her mother had died, and left her 
standing alone in the world. It was as if death 
had come again. Three months ago, when she 


THE MEN WHO LOVED ELIZABETH. 101 


had been so obstinate and defiant, her lover had 
clung to her passionately; but she had thrust his 
love aside, and now she had lost it forever. She 
began to see that she had never realized that she 
could quite lose it. Her pride had been a very 
craven pride, after all, and had not meant all it 
had prompted her to say. 

“ I was the weak one,” she cried, fiercely, and 
in an inconsistent changefulness. “ It was I who 
was afraid of those women. Why did I not let 
him love me ? Make him love me ? I could have 
done it. I held him against the world.” 

She made a dozen mad plans. She would not 
stay, and be obliged to face that girl as his wife. 
She would not stay to embroider cushions, and 
be stared at when people came to the house. She 
had a little money, and she would go away. She 
could get another situation somewhere, where 
nobody would know her. 

So she electrified Miss Tipton the next morn- 
ing by telling her that she must provide herself 


102 THE MEH WHO LOVED ELIZABETH. 


with another companion. Miss Tipton stared at 
her, and frowned. 

“ Nonsense ! ” she said. “ You are in one of 
your moods, Elizabeth. I hope you are not such 
a simpleton as to run away, because ” 

But a dangerous look in the handsome black 
eyes checked her. Elizabeth’s head raised itself, 
and her delicate nostrils dilated. 

“ Because what ? ” she demanded. 

“ Tut, tut ! ” quavered Miss Tipton. “ It is all 
girl’s nonsense.” 

But whether it was nonsense, or not, Elizabeth 
began to pack her trunks. She did not know 
enough of the world to feel afraid of it. She had 
never learned that a handsome, friendless young 
woman, who deserts her only acquaintances, is in 
a difficult position. 

“ Don’t be angry with me for telling you that 
I think you are doing an unwise thing,” said 
Gregory Renfrew, when he heard her plan. 

“ I will not stay here to see those women pre- 
tend to think ” she began, on fire. 


THE MEN WHO LOVED ELIZABETH. 103 

“ What will they think, if yon run away ? ” 
said Gregory, interrupting her, gravely. 

“I shall not know, and shall not care,” she 
answered; and then her eyes fell before his 
steady gaze. She had taken refuge behind a 
mean and paltry subterfuge. It was not the 
women she cared for; she would have defied 
them all. But if Max should be happy with her 
rival, and she should see his bliss shine in his eyes, 
as it had used to do a few months ago, she could 
not bear such a stab as that. She had a passion- 
ate fancy that it would kill her. 

The morning that she went away was a wet 
and chilly one. Miss Tipton scolded her from the 
time they sat down to breakfast until she bade 
her good-by at the door. 

“ You will repent it,” she said. “ It is all girl’s 
nonsense. I do not believe you even know where 
you are going to. You will repent it, as surely 
as you are Elizabeth Fabien.” 

“ I dare say I shall,” said Elizabeth. 


104 THE MEN WHO LOVED ELIZABETH. 


In truth, as she looked out at the drizzling 
rain, she was not sure that she was not repenting 
already. Everything seemed so miserable, and 
she was never to see her lover again. 

Even the people in the cars looked miserable. 
They were all damp and gloomy. Nobody smiled 
at any one else. Everybody seemed to want a 
whole seat, and to resent the approach of new 
arrivals. Elizabeth took her place, and turned 
mechanically to the window. Beyond the dismal 
little station she could see the road she had trod- 
den the day she had parted with Max. There 
w T as the clump of trees, where they stood when 
she gave him the ring, and their talk ended in so 
fierce a quarrel. She seemed to hear his voice 
again, as it sounded, when he said, “ Leischen, 
think one minute.” Would it not have been 
better if she had listened ? He loved her then, 
and she began to feel that love was worth a 
great deal to a woman. 

As the train moved off, she was obliged to draw 


THE MEN WHO LOVED ELIZABETH. 105 

down her veil. Her lips trembled, her face paled, 
and great, hot tears fell fast. 

“ Good-by, Max ! ” she whispered. “ Good-by, 
and try to forgive me.” 

She had not slept much the night before, and, 
after a while, the motion of the cars, and the dull 
prospect, wearied her. She folded her shawl 
against the corner of the window, and laid her 
head upon it. She only meant to rest ; but it was 
not very long before her eyes closed. 

“ No one shall ever call me Leischen again,” 
she said to herself. “ If another man should say 
1 Liese ’ to me, I should hate him. I shall be 
‘ Elizabeth ’ after this, until the end of my days.” 
And, unhappy as she was, she fell asleep with the 
words on her lips. 

She awakened with a start, and to the realiza- 
tion of a strange sensation. She felt herself 
shaken in her seat. The cars seemed to rock 
with the rapidity of their motion. She looked 
out of the window, and seeing how the fields 


106 THE MEN WHO LOVED ELIZABETH. 

appeared to whiz past, was frightened. While 
she slept, a man had seated himself at her side, 
and, in her sudden fear, she spoke to him. 

“ How fast we are going ! ” she said, tremu- 
lously. “ We are rocking from side to side. 
Something is wrong ! ” 

As she ended, a cry broke from her lips. Two 
things had happened at once. She had seen the 
face of her companion, and there had come a 
fearful crash ! 

“ Max ! ” she cried, and was flung heavily for- 
ward, and into his clasping arms. 

There were shrieks, and wails, and groans ; 
but she heard nothing of them after the first 
moment. 

Stunned by the shock, she had swooned in her 
lover’s arms. Capt. Max held her hard and fast. 
Fate had been good to them both. Among dead, 
and dying, and maimed creatures, they had re- 
mained unhurt. 

But there were stains of blood upon both, when 


THE MEN WHO LOVED ELIZABETH. 107 

Desmond staggered out from among the wreck, 
with the girl’s face resting upon his bosom. He 
was sick with the sights around him, but he had 
won his way safely out with Elizabeth. 

When the girl was aroused from her insensi- 
bility, she found herself lying on the floor of the 
wayside station. The seats were filled with men 
and women, hurt to death, or with shapeless 
forms, reverently covered. 

Desmond was standing by her, and, when she 
opened her eyes, he knelt at her side. 

“ Do you think you can stand ? ” he asked. 

“ Yes,” she answered, weakly enough. 

“ Then lean on my shoulder, and let me try to 
take you into the air.” 

When they got outside, he led her into a quiet 
corner, and supporting her, made her stand still. 

“ Thank God ! ” he said. “ Thank God ! ” 

Elizabeth felt that his great frame trembled, 
and she began to tremble too. So he held her 
closer, as if he had quite forgotten that there 
was another woman in the world. 


108 THE MEN WHO LOVED ELIZABETH. 


“ The time when a man and woman who love 
each other have escaped death together,” he said, 
directly, “ is not the time to stand on ceremony. 
I am going to answer your questions before you 
ask any. This morning Gregory Renfrew came 
and told me of the lies people have been carrying 
to you, and at the last moment I followed you, to 
make you hear me. I am not going to marry 
Doris Chesworth. I love no woman but you. 
I will marry no woman but you. And, what is 
more, I will not give you the opportunity to 
escape me again. If you will not marry me to- 
day, I will follow you until you do. I swear to 
you that I mean what I say.” 

And he put his hand underneath her chin, and 
turning her face upward, kissed her lips. Eliza- 
beth stood helpless. All her grandeur of mein 
had deserted her. 

“I — I ,” she began, and ended by burst- 

ing into tears. 

“ Don’t cry, Leischen,” he said, with a firmness 


THE MEN WHO LOVED ELIZABETH. 109 


she had never seen him exhibit before, and he 
kissed her again. “If you love me, there is 
nothing terrible in the fact that I will not give 
you time to drive me to despair again. Since I 
am determined to marry you, why may it not be 
to-day, as well as to-morrow ? ” 

“To-day?” faltered Elizabeth. “Ican’t — I — ” 

“Yes, you can,” he interposed. “I am on my 
way to the Continent, and you are going with me. 
I have found that delays are dangerous. Leise, 

darling ,” with sudden passionateness. “It 

might have been your dear, dead face I kissed at 
this moment.” 

And, strange as it may appear, he had his way. 
That evening he married Miss Tipton’s ex-com- 
panion, and then they went on their way together. 
And furious as the Desmond women were, they 
were compelled to resign themselves, and own 
that their day was past. They did not see Eliza- 
beth again until two days after she returned, 
looking handsomer and more unconquerable than 


110 THE MEN WHO LOYED ELIZABETH. 

ever; and then Capt. Max’s affection was so 
apparent, that they could not persuade people 
into the belief that he had made a mistake, or a 
mesalliance. They could not understand their 
sister-in-law’s friendship for Gregory Renfrew, 
but Desmond could. He had been present when 
Elizabeth put both her white hands into Gregory’s, 
the night of their first interview. 

“It was you who did all for me,” she said. 
“ But for you I might have been unhappy for- 
ever.” 

Gregory smiled. Elizabeth had not forgotten 
that patient smile, and yet it touched her afresh. 

“ When we were at school together, Desmond 
used to win my marbles from me,” he said. 
“ You remember what I once told you about his 
being a fortunate fellow. He used to win my 
marbles, but somehow I could never grudge him 
his luck.” 


WANTED— A YOUNG PERSON. 

BY MBS. FRANCES HODGSON BURNETT. 


M ISS ROBINA laid down her pen, and gave 
her work a grave look of inspection — 
just such a look as she had been wont to bestow 
upon the copy-books of the young ladies, in the 
good old days when “ the Misses Bird’s select 
seminary” flourished. 

“ Rosalinda, my dear,” she said, “ I think that 
will do.” 

Miss Rosalinda, who was tatting in a very short- 
sighted manner at the other side of the table, 
glanced up, blandly, satisfied, as usual. 

“ Certainly, Robina,” she answered. “ It would 
be very strange if it would not.” 

It would have been very strange if she had 
thought it would not. The utterances of Miss 

( 111 ) 


112 WANTED, A YOUNG PERSON. 

Robina Bird, were always, to Miss Rosalinda Bird 
as the utterances of an oracle. So, when her 
sister remarked that she thought her work would 
do, she was sure, without even looking at it, that 
it would. 

“ Wanted — a young person,” read Miss Robina, 
with dignity. “ A young person, to act as com- 
panion and housekeeper to two maiden ladies. 
Duties varied, but light. A comfortable home, 
and moderate salary offered. Address Avis, 
General P. 0.” 

Miss Rosalinda nodded her head, approvingly. 

“ There are people who might deem it an ex- 
travagance,” said her sister, oracularly, and rather 
as if she had one of the persons in question in her 
mind’s eye, “ but I hope we know best what we 
can, and what we cannot afford.” 

“ I hope we do,” echoed Miss Rosalinda. 

There was a momentary pause in which Miss 
Robina sat up as if braced by a back-board, her 
aspect very politely severe, indeed ; and then Miss 


WANTED, — A YOUNG PERSON. 113 

Rosalinda broke the silence by a meek, rather 
uncertain query. 

“Are you — are you thinking of Mrs. Mac- 
Whister, Sister Robina ? ” she ventured. 

“Rosalinda,” enunciated Miss Bird, “I never 
think of Mrs. McWhister. She is not the kind of 
person to be thought of advantageously under 
any circumstances.” 

“ No, indeed,” agreed Miss Rosalinda. “ Of 
course not, Robina ; but one’s mind, you know — ” 

Miss Bird interposed. 

“ One’s mind should be under control upon all 
occasions. 

“ Ye-es, indeed,” faltered Miss Rosalinda, and 
subsided into nervous tatting. 

In the days of the select seminary, Mrs. Mac- 
Whister, be it known, had been the rival estab- 
lishment. Mrs. MacWhister was the hard-faced, 
sharp widow of a Scotch clergyman, who had 
died young, having been — as a bold young per- 
son in the first class put it — “ Mrs. MacWhistered 
7 


114 WANTED, — A YOUNG PERSON. 

to death.” Mrs. MacWhister had been even more 
select than the Misses Bird. She refused pupils 
whose parents were “ in trade,” and she flourished 
her selectness in the Misses Bird’s faces. Her 
young ladies had been taught to regard the rival 
young ladies with cold disdain. They were en- 
couraged to out-dress them at church ; and once, 
when the bold young person in the first class was 
known to have referred to the rival proprietresses 
as “ the two old Birds,” she was not reproved. 
In fact, as far as it was possible for the good Miss 
Robina to live at the point of the knife with a 
fellow-being, she had so lived with Mrs. Mac- 
Whister in a majestic way. 

Even after her retirement from the field, soon 
after the sisters had given up their school, and 
removed to the quiet, retired square, where they 
now lived, she did not outlive her scars. It was 
her favorite fiction, that she never condescended 
to bestow a thought upon her whilom enemy. 

, Hence her momentary severity of demeanor. 


WANTED, — A YOUNG PERSON. 115 

And yet, singularly enough, when tea had been 
brought in, and she had taken her second piece of 
toast, she opened fire, as it were, upon her own 
account, thereby almost disarranging Miss Rosa- 
linda’s digestive powers. 

“ Poor child ! ” she said, with most inconsistent 
sternness. “ Poor, broken-hearted child ! ” 

“ Poor ! ” exclaimed Miss Rosalinda. “ Child, 
Robina ? ” 

“ Yes,” answered Miss Robina. “I am think- 
ing of poor little Beck Stuart.” 

“ Oh, dear, yes ! ” said Miss Rosalinda. “Poor 
thing ! Only that she was not little, Robina, but 
rather tall for a girl of seventeen.” 

“ She was child enough to have been little.” 
Miss Bird went on, shaking her head. “ And the 
thought of her makes my blood run cold in my 
veins ! Whatever her story has been since that 
bitter winter’s night, there is only one person who 
can be called to account for it. That person’s 
name I forbear to mention.” 


116 WANTED, — A YOUNG PERSON. 

“It was Miss Briggs who told you about it, 
wasn’t it ? ” Miss Rosalinda suggested. 

“Yes; it was Miss Briggs. She called my 
attention to her one day, as the young ladies filed 
past; and she told me she was an orphan, and 
Mrs. MacWhister’s niece. She taught the younger 
pupils ; and a bitter life she had of it, they said. 
Poor child ! And yet her proud, young spirit 
held her up, and she was the life of the school, 
with her pretty face and gay ways. For my part, 
though I had never seen her clearly, I was deeply 
interested in her; and never shall I forget the 
night when Isabella Briggs came into the room, 
crying. You were up stairs, with Miss Giggle’s 
work, who had the measles, and said that some- 
thing dreadful had happened at Mrs. MacWhist- 
er’s, and pretty Beck Stuart had just rushed past 
the window, white and breathless, and without 
any hat on, only a shawl thrown over her arm. 
Isabella Briggs knew more of her than I did, and 
she has quite a fancy for her.” 


WANTED, — A YOUNG PERSON. 117 

“ Quite a fancy ? ” sighed Miss Rosalinda. 
“ Being so plain herself. I think we never had a 
muddier complexion, or a more crossed pair of 
eyes, in the house, than poor Miss Briggs’s ; and 
under-teachers are not usually fortunate in their 
looks. She had a great weakness for pretty faces ; 
and, besides, the girl had lent her an umbrella 
once, and had a kind, bright way, she said.” 

“ Poor child ! ” said Miss Robina, helping her- 
self sternly to another piece of toast. “Poor 
child, indeed ! ” 

She had barely finished speaking, before she 
was startled entirely out of her majesty of man- 
ner by a sound behind her, which caused her to 
drop her toast, and exclaim, with a little jump, 

“ Dear me, Mary Anne ! This is really un- 
bearable ! ” 

The person addressed was a small maid-servant, 
who had been guilty of entering the room without 
knocking, and who, recollecting her blunder, and 
recognizing its enormity, stood covered with con- 
fusion. 


118 WANTED, — A YOUNG PERSON. 

“ I beg your pardon, mem,” she stammered. 
“ I ’m always forgetting, mem. It flies out of my 
head, like ; and, if you please, mem, there ’s a 
young person.” 

“A young person!” ejaculated Miss Robina. 
“I must beg of you to be more definite, Mary 
Anne ! ” 

“Yes, mem,” answered Mary Anne. “If you 
please, mem, it ’s a young person as wants to see 
you.” 

“ Miss Chickie, about the new dress, Robina,” 
suggested Miss Rosalinda. “ Show her into the 
room, Mary Anne.” 

Mary Anne obeyed. But it was not Miss 
Chickie. The “ young person ” was taller than 
Miss Chickie, and was also younger. She was a 
young person with a plain, black dress, and hat 
on, and a black veil covering her face. When 
she raised this veil, Miss Robina gave another 
little jump, and Miss Rosalinda followed her 
example. The face they saw was such a pretty, 


WANTED, A YOUNG PERSON. 119 

young face; but such a Avorn young face, and 
such a pale and' unsmiling one, that it was a 
touching sight to see. 

“ I hope I am not too late,” said the girl. 
“ Miss Chickie ” 

“ Oh, it is about the dresses, then,” put in Miss 
Rosalinda. 

“No, madam,” was the answer. “ Miss Chickie 
heard you mention that you intended to adAmr- 
tise for a young person to occupy the position of 
housekeeper and companion, and she Avas so kind 
as to say that she thought I might fill the place. 
I am the bearer of a note from her.” 

“ Pray, sit down,” said Miss Robina, as she took 
the note. 

It was quite a brief epistle. Having heard her 
patronesses mention their want, Miss Chickie 
took the liberty of recommending the accompa- 
nying young person. Her name was Snowe. 
She was an orphan, and had lodged Avith Miss 
Chickie for some time; and her manners were 


120 WANTED, — A YOUNG PERSON. 

such, that Miss Chickie had become quite inter- 
ested in her. She was not strong enough to sew 
constantly, and she was dependent upon her own 
exertions. Miss Chickie felt that the Misses Bird 
would excuse the liberty she had taken; and 
“ remained the Misses Bird’s obliged servant, 
Lucretia Chickie.” 

Miss Robina folded the note again. 

“Very kind, indeed, of Miss Chickie,” she 
remarked. “Very thoughtful. This is Miss 
Snowe, Rosalinda, and Miss Chickie recommends 
her to us strongly.” 

“Very kind of Miss Chickie,” echoed Rosa- 
linda. 

The girl looked up at Miss Robina, a touching 
eagerness on her great, gray eyes. 

“ Miss Chickie has been very good to me,” she 
faltered. “ She takes a great responsibility upon 
her shoulders, in sending me here ; but, if you 
would try me, I would not — I would not abuse 
her generous kindness, or yours.” 


WANTED, A YOUNG PERSON. 121 

“ I am sure you wouldn’t ! ” exclaimed little 
Miss Rosalinda, with timid enthusiasm. She saw 
that the gray eyes had tears in them, which, 
seemed to have sprung there in a second. 

“ Rosalinda,” said Miss Bird, “ of course, not.” 

She was, under all her dignity, quite as soft- 
hearted and sentimental as her sister, but she 
felt bound to sustain her business-like character. 
So she sat down near Miss Snow, and began to ask 
questions. 

“ Rosalinda and I are no longer young,” she 
explained, in her most practical manner ; “ and 
we begin to need rest from small cares. We 
thought, if we had an amiable young person to 
take little responsibilities upon herself : to write 
our notes for us, to read to us when we are tired, 
and to care for us when we are not well, we 
should find it pleasant, and a relief ; and we de- 
cided to indulge ourselves.” 

“ I should be willing, more than willing, to do 
all you wished,” said the girl. “And it would be 
rest for me. If you knew what rest it would be.” 


122 WANTED, — A YOUNG PERSON. 

Her gloved hands clasped themselves on her 
knee, and the look on her face scattered Miss 
Robina’s practical coolness to the winds. She 
hesitated, and forgot herself. 

“ It was very thoughtful of Miss Chickie,” she 
said absently; “ and I think you might suit us.” 

“I am sure she would,” murmured Miss Rosa- 
linda. 

It was not, in the end, as strictly business-like 
an interview as Miss Robina would have liked to 
make it; and she could not help a secret regret 
that the classical advertisement must be sacri- 
ficed; but the pale, thin, youthful face was too 
much for her discretion, and the result of it was, 
that Miss Chickie’s lodger was engaged as “ house- 
keeper and companion to two maiden ladies.” 

Before a month had passed, both herself and 
Rosalinda had become so deeply interested for 
Janet Snowe, that they felt it would have cost 
them a great deal to dispense with her. The 
young face, which might have been so pretty in 


WANTED, A YOUNG PERSON. 123 

bloom and happiness, did not grow rounder, or 
less pale and sad, but it was always a sweet and 
patient face ; and, somehow, it made itself quite 
dear to the two old ladies. No duty was ever 
forgotten ; nothing was left undone, or done care- 
lessly. Even Mary Anne’s manners improved, 
and a certain thoughtful gentleness and gratitude 
made the long evenings seem very much shorter 
than they had been wont to seem when the two 
pairs of old eyes were too dim to read, or write, 
or sew. Ancient novel after ancient novel Janet 
Snowe discovered in circulating libraries, to read 
aloud for the delectation of Miss Rosalinda and 
Miss Robina, to whom modern novels were trying. 
Pages of Mrs. Hannah More did the Misses Bird 
doze gently under, and awaken, with regretful 
and deprecating little starts, to admire. 

“ I feel sure that she has an unhappy attach- 
ment, or that her friends wish her to make an un- 
congenial marriage,” said Miss Rosalinda. “She 
stands at the oriel window, and looks out just as 


124 WANTED, A YOUNG PERSON. 

Angelica Ormondsby used to do, in that beautiful 
novel of ‘ The Sufferings of the Orphan,’ when 
Lord Mortimer was separated from her by their 
misunderstanding.” 

She w r as very fond of standing at the window 
mentioned, an oriel one, with an old-fashioned 
seat upon it, the old ladies noticed. She often 
took her sewing, and sat there, watching the 
children playing in the square. She seemed to 
like to see the little creatures. Indeed, the first 
time Miss Rosalinda ever saw her smile, was one 
morning when a manly little fellow of six or 
seven looked up at her, and nodded, and kissed 
his hand. 

“Do you know him?” Rosalinda asked. “He 
seems to know you.” 

The girl had apparently forgotten her presence. 
She turned round, with a startled face. So Rosa- 
linda repeated her question. 

u That pretty little boy,” she said, “ I asked 
you if you knew him.” 


WANTED, — A YOUNG PERSON. 125 

“ Yes,” was J anet Snowe’s answer. “ I know — 
at least we have seen each other before.” 

“ What a manly fellow he is ! ” commented 
Miss Rosalinda. “ I wonder how old he is. About 
eight, I should say.” ' 

“ Seven in March,” said the girl, with a faint 
glow of pleasure in her eyes. “ He is very manly 
for his age.” 

“ Oh,” said Rosalinda, “ you know him quite 
well, I suppose.” And then she nodded, and 
laughed at the child herself. 

She saw him often enough afterward. After 
school-hours, in fine weather, she always saw him 
playing within view of their windows, and she 
began to observe that it was he whom Janet 
Snowe was watching. But this did not strike her 
as singular. She watched him herself, he was 
such a handsome child, and such an unusual sort 
of child — so manly and self-contained in an old- 
fashioned way. Sometimes he sat on a bench, 
and read; sometimes he played; and, several 


126 WANTED, A YOUNG PERSON. 

times, when he went away, Rosalinda saw him 
look up at the window, as if for approval, and saw 
Janet Snowe press her thin little hand almost 
passionately to her lips, in a farewell salute. 

“ She is so lonely that she has learned to be 
fond of him,” commented the old maid; and when 
she told Robina, Robina was quite touched, and 
agreed with her that this must be the case. And 
she added, “ Now, that winter has come, she does 
not see him often, and I think she is sadder. I 
surprised her the other day, when it was snowing. 
She was sitting there, looking out, and, oh, so 
melancholy ! It made my heart ache. She feels 
the confinement here, I suppose.” 

“ Rosalinda,” said Miss Bird, one morning, at 
breakfast, after the letters had been brought in, 
“ here is a letter from Isabella Briggs.” 

“ Dear me ! ” exclaimed Rosalinda. “ What 
does she say ? ” 

“ That she is coming to town for the Christmas 
holidays, and will take the liberty of paying us a 


WANTED 


A YOUNG PERSON. 127 


visit. An old assistant of ours, my dear,” to 
Janet, “ and a most excellent young person, Miss 
Briggs.” 

“ Would you call her a young person,” sug- 
gested Rosalinda. 

“ I should not call her an old person, Rosa- 
linda,” answered Miss Robina, with dignity. 
“ Janet, my dear, you are not looking well, this 
morning.” 

She was not, indeed — not even as well as usual. 
But she smiled a little as she answered. 

“ I do not think I am ever very well,” she said. 
“And this is not one of my best days. It is the 
weather, perhaps. This deep snow keeps us all 
in, you know.” 

But lightly as she treated the matter, she did 
not improve as the day went on. Miss Robina 
thought she was feverish, and advised a saline 
draught. Miss Rosalinda thought she was ner- 
vous, and suggested something soothing. 

“ You start if the door opens,” she said, “ and 


128 WANTED, — A YOUNG PERSON. 

I can see your hands trembling. If you do not 
get better we must send for Dr. Floyd. Robina 
and I have great confidence in Dr. Floyd. He 
is a young man, but he has had a great deal of 
experience.” And then she wandered off into a 
dissertation upon Dr. Floyd, who had a story — 
or at least looked as if he had one. 

“A romance, I am sure, my dear,” she said. 
“ He is not more than thirty-two, and his hair has 
streaks of gray in it, and his face is so careworn 
and sad, as if he had had a great trouble. We 
are very fond of him, Robina and I, and we 
always send for him, though he lives quite at the 
other end of the city.” And she shook her head 
over her tatting, and sighed. 

But if Janet Snowe needed something soothing 
in the morning, Miss Rosalinda herself needed 
something soothing before night. At five o’clock 
Miss Briggs arrived — poor Isabella Briggs — in 
her oftrturned merino and melancholy bonnet, 
and with her one shabby little trunk, looking 


WANTED, — A YOUNG PERSON. 129 

desolate upon the roof of a shabby cab, whose 
driver entered into an altercation on the subject 
of fare, and drove off muttering anathemas upon 
“ ladies as was not ladies.” Miss Bird was up 
stairs when the visitor arrived; but Miss Rosa- 
linda met her at the door, and conducted her into 
the parlor, and then conducted her to her bed- 
room, and then conducted her back again, in a 
flutter of friendly feeling, and left her for a 
minute or so to go and bring her refreshments in 
the form of seed-cake and orange-wine. 

It was as she was returning with these luxu- 
ries, that she received her shock. She saw Janet 
Snowe cross the passage, enter the door of the 
room in which Isabella Briggs was standing be- 
fore the fire, and then she heard a cry in Isabella’s 
voice — a little, wild, startled cry. 

“ Beck ! Oh, Beck ! Oh, my dear ! ” 

She hurried forward, the orange-wine upset- 
ting itself upon the seed-cake on the plate. But , 
8 


130 WANTED, — A YOUNG PEKSON. 

at the door she paused, held back by a feeling 
something akin to fear. 

Poor, shabby Isabella Briggs was holding the 
girl in her arms, crying over her hysterically; 
kissing her, and then holding her away, so that 
she might look at her face. 

“Why did you go away?” Miss Rosalinda 
heard her say. “ It nearly broke my heart ! I 
wanted to care for you, in your pain. My poor 
girl ! Oh, Beck, dear ! My beautiful, poor girl ! ” 

Janet Snowe was shaking from head to foot, 
and seemed scarcely able to speak. 

“ Hush, dear ! Hush ! ” she said. “ Don’t 
make me break down, Bella. Don’t ! ” And as 
she said these last words, Miss Rosalinda was 
reminded how young she was, for she said them 
like an over- tried child. 

Miss Rosalinda began to tremble herself. The 
tears came into her eyes, and she slipped into the 
sitting-room near, and laid the cake and wine on 
a table. 


WANTED, — A YOUNG PERSON. 131 

“ She called her ‘ Beck,’ ” she fluttered. “ I 
will leave them to themselves. She — she called 
her ‘ Beck!”’ 

She went up to her own room, and sat down to 
calm herself. She wondered whether she ought 
to tell Robina. She wondered if she could keep 
the secret devoutly, if she did not. She knew 
she could not face the two below, and not betray 
herself, or at least betray that she was ill at ease. 

“ I am afraid to think what the mystery may 
be,” she wept. “ She called her ‘ Beck ! ’ And 
what Beck did Isabella Briggs ever know, but 
that poor child at MacWhister’s.” 

But she was obliged to go down at last, and 
then she was half-alarmed again by finding her 
position made easy for her. Janet Snowe and 
little Miss Briggs stood upon the hearth together, 
holding each other’s hands. Janet was deathly 
pale. Isabella Briggs’ nose and eyes were red 
with emotion and tears. 

Janet made a step forward, and spoke. 


132 WANTED, A YOUNG PERSON. 

“Miss Rosalinda,” she said, “ I have found an 
old friend, I thought I had lost. I owe Miss 
Briggs more grateful love than I can live long 
enough to pay her. She is the kindest friend I 
have on earth.” And she bent down with a little 
sob, and kissed Isabella’s shriveled hands. 

“I’ll not tell Robina,” decided Rosalinda. 
“ I couldn’t do it if I tried. It is their secret, and 
not mine.” 

So she bore the burden within her kind, senti- 
mental little heart ; and sometimes she found it 
a rather trying one. She was constantly afraid 
of betraying herself. She grew so restless, that 
Miss Robina began to feel anxious about her, and 
threatened her with Dr. Floyd. 

“ I shall certainly send for him, if you do not 
improve,” she said. “ You are so absent-minded, 
that you stare at Isabella and Janet, sometimes, 
until I am sure they must object to it; and when 
I speak to you, you almost jump. I did not 
think nerves were a weakness of yours, Rosa- 
linda.” 


WANTED, — A YOUNG PERSON. 133 

Isabella Briggs had been with them nearly a 
month ; and as her holiday was drawing to a 
close, she was beginning to speak sadly of pack- 
ing the small trunk. 

“ I have had a long rest,” she said, “ and I 
shall have to work hard to make it up. Madame 
Smythkins’,” shaking her head, “ is not such an 
establishment as yours was, my dear Miss Bird.” 

It was during the afternoon, in the course of 
which she said this, that Miss Robina confided to 
her a little sisterly plan of hers. 

“ I know Rosalinda would not hear of such a 
thing, if I mentioned it to her beforehand,” she 
remarked ; “ and so I have kept the matter to 
myself. I am anxious about Rosalinda. She is 
not herself; she needs attention. So, I have sent 
a line to Dr. Floyd, asking him to drop in this 
evening, in a friendly manner.” 

It was not a pleasant evening. The day closed 
in wet and dreary, and Miss Robina almost gave 
up the idea that her favorite would come. 


134 WANTED, — A YOUNG PERSON. 

“ Though I have always found that I could rely 
upon him,” she said to Miss Briggs. 

But Miss Briggs could scarcely feel interested 
in the matter. She was in low spirits, and 
worked upon Rosalinda’s tatting silently. They 
were all rather depressed, it seemed. Miss Bird 
forgot to ring for lights, and they sat in a circle 
before the fire, and had very little to say to each 
other. Miss Rosalinda sat in her arm-chair, and 
stared at the coals ; Miss Robina closed her eyes, 
and dozed ; Isabella Briggs tatted mechanically ; 
Janet stood with a hand on the mantel-piece, and 
regarded her friend with heavy, wistful eyes. 

But there came a change ; such a change as 
no one of them could forget till their dying day. 
It was heralded by a ring at the front door-bell, 
by a man’s voice in the hall, and then came the 
man himself, preceded by Mary Anne. 

Miss Robina awakened, and rose to meet him, 
rather sleepily. 

“Dr. Floyd,” she said. “Rosalinda, here is 
Dr. Floyd.” 


WANTED, — A YOUNG PERSON. 135 

Dr. Floyd advanced, holding out his hand, and 
Miss Rosalinda extended hers, feeling rather 
nervous. 

But it was never taken. Just at that moment 
the fire flamed up suddenly, and its brightness 
fell upon the white face of the girl standing near 
it, and then the man started forward, and Miss 
Rosalinda heard again the cry she had heard 
when Isabella Briggs had caught Janet in her 
arms, only this time it was wilder, and more 
shaken. 

“Beck! Beck! Oh, God! Have I found 
you ! ” 

But the girl drew back, holding up her hand in 
a passionate gesture. 

“ Don’t come near me ! ” she said. “ Don’t 
come near me ! Don’t speak to me ! Don’t look 
at me ! ” 

He would have caught her in his arms, but she 
would not let him. All her womanhood dropped 
away from her. She flung herself upon her 


136 WANTED, — A YOUNG PERSON. 

knees at Isabella Briggs’ feet, and clung to her 
like a child, sobbing wildly. 

“ Bella ! ” she cried out, “ Keep me ! Save me ! 
Save me from him, as you saved me from myself ! 
Don’t let him touch me, Bella, or I shall die ! 
For he is the man who broke my heart, and left 
me to face the world alone ! ” 

Then little Miss Briggs was strong. She held 
the girl close to her breast ; her little, meagre 
face glowed with honest anger, and her eyes 
flashed. 

“ Sir ! ” she said, “ stand farther away from 
tis, if you are a man at all ! Leave us to our- 
selves. Leave my poor girl to me, as you left 
her to other strangers when she most needed 
your love and care. You are as hard as stone, 
and as cruel as the grave. God may forgive you, 
but I do not think He will.” 

He only stared at her, in a blind, dull fashion, 
and then he stretched out his hands with a groan. 

“ Beck ! ” he said. “ Beck, child ! ” 


WANTED, — A YOUNG PERSON. 137 

Miss Robina sank into her chair. 

“Beck!” she gasped. “Janet! Isabella! 
Rosalinda ! ” 

Miss Rosalinda, who had naturally burst into 
tears, wrung her hands. 

“Robina,” she said, “it is poor, pretty Beck 
Stuart ! ” 

The girl stirred upon Miss Briggs’ breast. 

“ Bella,” she whispered, “ tell them how I have 
deceived them. Ask them to forgive me.” 

So, Isabella Briggs told them. 

“ Her name is not Janet Snowe,” she said, the 
tears running down her cheeks. “ Her name is 
Rebecca Stuart, and she is the poor child I told 
you of eight years ago. When her father died, 
she had nowhere to go but to Mrs. MacWhister. 
She lived with her when she kept school in Dun- 
dee> and she had a bitter life. The summer the 
school was moved to London, Mrs. MacWhister 
gave her a holiday, and she went alone, poor 
child, to a little, quiet, sea-side town. When she 


138 WANTED, — A YOUNG PEESON. 

was there, she met some one she had known, and 
liked, Avhen she was at her father’s house. It 
was a young man who had been one of her 
father’s favorites. It was that man,” pointing’ 
to Floyd. “And in those days he was young, 
and the kind of man who is always loved, 
whether he deserves it or not. Because I cannot 
bear to speak at any length, I will only tell you 
that, before the holiday was over, he had per- 
suaded her to marry him, and she thought all her 
sorrow was over. She was happy for just three 
weeks, and then he told her that he must leave 
her for a few days ; only a few days, to attend 
to some money matter. Well, he kissed her 
innocent lips, and Avent aAvay ; and from that day 
to this she never saAV him again.” 

She AA r ould have continued, but Beck Stuart 
stopped her. She lifted her face, and looked up 
at Floyd. 

“I AA’ill tell the rest,” she said. “I know it 
best.” She spoke in a hard voice, almost as if 
she AA 7 as repeating a lesson. 


WANTED, — A YOUNG PERSON. 139 

“He went away, and he did not come back. 
I was only a child, sixteen years old, and I be- 
lieved he would. I did not know where to write. 
I did not know what to do ; and I could only 
wait. So I waited until I dare wait no longer, 
because the woman of the house frightened me 
with the things she said. I left her my ad- 
dress, and I went back to Mrs. MacWhister’s. 
I had nowhere else to go. Then I waited there, 
but nothing came — not a line nor a word. And, 
at last, one night Mrs. MacWhister came to me 
looking like a madwoman. She said she had 
found me out, and I had disgraced myself for- 
ever. She would not listen to a word I said, and 
in my misery I think I was mad, too. She told 
me to go, and I caught up a shawl, and ran out 
into the night. I think I wandered about the 
streets until morning, and then Bella found me. 
I don’t know why she cared for me, but she did. 
She took me to a little house in a by-street, and 
then I went down upon my knees on the floor, 


140 WANTED, — A YOUNG PERSON. 

and told her everything. She made me get up, 
and she cried and kissed me, and said she would 
try to help me, and no one should know. I made 
her promise not to tell. I stayed in that house 
for six months, and she gave me all the money 
she earned — I know she did. But I could not 
let her do it always, though she begged me to; 
so one morning I got up very early, and took my 
little boy in my arms, and I went away leaving 
her a letter. From that time to this I have 
fought for myself and Archie. It has been very 
hard sometimes, but I have done it. Miss Rosa- 
linda,” turning to the little old maid, “ the little 
hoy you have seen playing in the Square is my 
little boy. I told him to play there, so that I 
could watch him, because, only to see him com- 
forts me, and makes me forget. He is different 
from other children, and he is all I have in the 
world.” 

She had scarcely finished speaking before Floyd 
held her in his arms. His face was white and 


WANTED, — A YOUNG PERSON. 141 

wild, and his limbs shook under him ; the passion 
of grief, and pity, and love in his eyes was terri- 
ble to see. He would not let her go ; he held 
her close and fast. 

“ The mother of my child cannot refuse to 
hear me,” he cried. “ The mother of my child 
cannot condemn me unheard. I have that claim 
to plead, at least, thank God, thank God ! Oh, 
Beck, my own ! Do you think I have not a story 
to tell, too ? ” 

A little moan broke from her lips. 

“You left me,” she sobbed; “you left me all 
alone.” 

“ I left you, thinking I should hold you in my 
arms again in a few days, at farthest,” he an- 
swered, his words poured forth with mad eager- 
ness ; “ and but that Fate was so cruel to us, all 
would have been fair and smooth. Oh, how cruel 
Fate has been ! The morning I bade you good- 
by, I thought myself the happiest man on earth. 
1 was so full of hope and joy that I could scarcely 


142 WANTED, — -A YOUNG PERSON. 

contain myself. I was little more than a boy, 
and my heart was so light ! When I reached 
London, I walked through the streets, instead of 
driving, and on my way I came upon a sight that 
stopped me. It was a woman crouching upon a 
door-step, moaning and shivering. I could not 
bear to pass her, and I stopped and spoke to her; 
but it seemed that she could not understand. 
She only looked up at me, and moanejd afresh. 
Then I saw where the trouble lay. She was 
stricken with some desperate sickness, and was 
half-delirious. I could not go on then, so I did 
my best to help her. I called a cab, and put her 
into it, and went with her to the nearest hospi- 
tal, and did not leave her until I had seen her 
comfortably provided for. But, before I had 
accomplished this, I had made a discovery. This 
poor creature, whom I had supported in my 
arms, was stricken with the most loathsome of 
diseases. The house-surgeon called me aside, 
and told me that she was infected with small- 


WANTE-D, — A YOUNG PERSON. 143 

pox, and he warned me to take all possible 
precautions at once. I went to my lodgings, and 
obeyed him in every trifle, but a dull fear seemed 
to seize upon me. That was why I would not 
write at first. I thought I would wait until the 
danger was over, if I escaped. But I did not 
escape. In a few days more I found I must give 
in, and then it was too late. It was weeks before 
my mind was clear. I lay at Death’s door, and 
everybody deserted me but the old woman my 
doctor had engaged as nurse. Beck, my dear, 
for the sake of those childish, honeymoon days, 
and for the sake of the child I have never seen, 
say you believe me ! ” 

She clung to him with a tempest of weeping. 
She held him as closely now as he had held her. 

“ Every word ! ” she sobbed. “ Every word ! 
Oh, how can I hear to hear it ? ” 

“ It was long before I could travel safely,” he 
went on. “ And though I wrote to you, I received 
no answer. But at last I thought I might go, 


144 WANTED, — A YOUNG PERSON. 

and I went; and, Beck, you were gone, and the 
little house stood empty.” 

“ Empty ! ” she echoed. 

“ Empty. The woman who kept it had gone to 
Australia, to join her husband. She had left the 
house scarcely a week after you did.” 

Miss Rosalinda shook her head, and wiped her 
eyes afresh. 

“ Robina,” she murmured, “Angelica Ormonds- 

by ” But there her feelings overpowered 

her. 

“I went to Dundee,” continued Dr. Floyd, 
“ though my long illness had left me a very in- 
definite impression of Mrs. MacWhister’s address. 
But I did not find you. At that time, I know 
now, you were in London. We had been so near 
to each other, my poor love, and yet so far away. 
Then, in my despair and weakness, I fell ill again, 
and was helpless for months ; but from that day 
to this, Beck, I swear that I never gave up my 
search for you. I should never have given it up, 


WANTED, A YOUNG PERSON. 145 

save with my life. Look at my face. See the 
gray streaks in my hair, and tell me whether a 
man who had been false could bear such marks as 
these.” 

She pulled the care-lined face down, and kissed 
it passionately, with all the remorseful abandon 
of a child. She kissed his hair; she even kissed 
his hands, and his coat. But in a moment more 
her strength gave way. 

“ Hold me close, Jack ! ” she cried, calling him 
by the old, boyish name he remembered so well. 
“ Hold me close, Jack, and do not let me go ! The 
sorrow did not kill me ; but I think — I think the 
joy ” And she fainted upon his breast. 

He carried her to the sofa, and laid her down ; 
and, of course, for the next quarter of an hour, 
Miss Bobina, and Miss Rosalinda, and Isabella 
Briggs, filled the room with a wild excitement of 
hurrying to and fro, and running against each 
other, and advising a score of remedies in chorus ; 
and when the worst was over, and the girl opened 


146 WANTED, A YOUNG PEKSON. 

her eyes, the three grouped themselves about her, 
and were all fain to fan her, and to apply smell- 
ing-salts at once. But Beck only saw her hus- 
band; and when he knelt at her side, she curled 
her slender arm about his neck. 

“ Jack,” she whispered, “ send somebody for my 
baby. He is seven years old, but he is my baby 
yet. Send somebody for my baby.” 

Then Isabella Briggs stepped forward. 

“ Let me go,” she pleaded. “ He knows me. 
He is my baby, too, Beck.” 

“ Yes,” said Beck. “ Kiss me, Bella, and go.” 

And Bella went, and did her errand well. And 
she who had saved Beck from despair and death, 
gave Beck’s child into his father’s arms, and 
thanked God, in her simple, kindly heart, that 
her work was done. 


THE END. 


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The Morrisons. By Mrs. Margaret Hosmer, 1 75 

The Rich Husband. By author of “ George Geith,” 1 75 

Woodburn Grange. A Novel. By William Howitt, 1 75 

The Lost Beauty. By a Noted Lady of the Spanish Court, 1 75 

My Hero. By Mrs. Forrester. A Charming Love Story, 1 75 

The Quaker Soldier. A Revolutionary Romance. By Judge Jones,.... 1 75 
Memoirs of Vidocq, the French Detective. His Life and Adventures, 1 75 


The Belle of Washington. With her Portrait. By Mrs. N. P. Lasselle, 1 75 
High Life in Washington. A Life Picture. By Mrs. N. P. Lasselle, 1 75 
Above books are each in cloth, or each one is in paper cover, at $1.50 each. 


Above Books will be sent, postage paid, on Receipt of Retail Price, 
by T. B. Peterson & Brothers, Philadelphia, Pa. 


OF GOOD NOVELS, AEE THE BEST, LAEGEST, 
AND CHEAPEST BOOKS IN THE WOBLD. 

Price One Dollar Each, in Cloth, Black and Gold. 
A WOMAN’S THOUGHTS ABOUT WOMEN. By Miss Mulock. 
THE LOVER’S TRIALS. By Mrs. Mary A. Denison, 

THE PRIDE OF LIFE. A Love Story. By Lady Jane Scott. 

THE BEAUTIFUL WIDOW. By Mrs. Percy B. Shelly. 

CORA BELMONT; or, The Sincere Lover. 

TWO WAYS TO MATRIMONY ; or, Is It Love, or, False Pride? 
LOST SIR MASSINGBERD. James Payn’s Best Book. 

THE OLYFFARDS OF OLYFFE. By James Payn. 

MY SON’S WIFE. By the Author of “Caste.” 

THE RIVAL BELLES; or, Life in Washington. By J. B. Jones. 
THE REFUGEE. By the author of “ Omoo,” “ Typee,” etc. 

OUT OF THE DEPTHS. The Story of a Woman’s Life. 

THE MATCHMAKER. A Society Novel. By Beatrice Reynolds. 
AUNT PATTY’S SCRAP BAG. By Mrs. Caroline Lee Hentz. 
THE STORY OF “ELIZABETH.” By Miss Thackeray. 
FLIRTATIONS IN FASHIONABLE LIFE. By Catharine Sinclair. 
THE HEIRESS IN THE FAMILY. By Mrs. Mackenzie Daniels. 
LOVE AND DUTY. A Love Story. By Mrs. Hubback. 

THE COQUETTE ; or, The Life and Letters of Eliza Wharton. 
SELF-LOVE. A Book for Young Ladies and for Women. 

THE DEVOTED BRIDE. By St. George Tucker, of Virginia. 

THE MAN OF THE WORLD. By William North. 

THE RECTOR’S WIFE; or, The Valle^-of a Hundred Fires. 

THE QUEEN’S FAVORITE; or, The Price of a Crown. 

COUNTRY QUARTERS. By the Countesh of Blessington. 

THE CAVALIER. A Novel. By G. P. R. James. 

SARATOGA ! AND THE FAMOUS SPRINGS. A Love Story. 
COLLEY CIBBER’S LIFE OF EDWIN FORREST, with Portrait. 
WOMAN’S WRONG. A Book for Women. By Mrs. Eiloart. 
HAREM LIFE IN EGYPT AND CONSTANTINOPLE. 

THE OLD PATROON ; or, The Great Van Broek Property. 

THE MACDERMOTS OF BALLYCLORAN. By Anthony Trollope. 
A LONELY LIFE. TREASON AT HOME. PANOLA! 

103" For sale by all Booksellers and News Agents, and published by 

T. B. PETERSON & BROTHERS, Philadelphia. 


Henry GreviUe’s New Works, 


Philomene’s Marriages. From the French of “Les Mariages de Philomene.” 
By Henry Greville , author of “ Dosia,” “ Saveli’s Expiation,” etc. 

The American edition of “Philom£ne’s Marriages,” contains a Preface written by 
Henry Greville, addressed to her American Headers, which is not in the French edition. 
Translated in Paris , front Henry Greville 1 s manuscript , by Miss Helen Stanley. 

Pretty Little Countess Zina. By Henry Greville , author of “Dosia,” 
“ Saveli’s Expiation,” “A Friend,” etc. Translated by Mary Heal Sherwood. 

“ Pretty Little Countess Zina ” is a careful study. Zina, the youthful Countess, 
bears a certain resemblance to Dosia — that bewitching creature — in her dainty wilfulness, 
while the ward and cousin, Yassalissa, is an entire new creation. 

l>osia. A Russian Story. Complete and Unabridged. By Henry Griville, author 
of “Saveli’s Expiation,” “ Marrying Off a Daughter,” “ Sonia,” etc. 

“ Dosia ” has been crowned by the French Academy as the Prize Novel of the year. 
It is a charming story of Russian society, and is crisp, fresh and pure; while its fascina- 
tion is powerful and legitimate. It is written with a rare grace of style, is brilliant, 
pleasing and attractive. “ Dosia ” is an exquisite creation, and is pure and fresh as a rose. 

Marrying 1 OIF a Daughter. By Henry Greville, anther of “ Dosia,” “Saveli’s 
Expiation,” “ Gabrielle,” “ A Friend,” etc. Translated by Mary Heal Sherwood. 
“Marrying Off A Daughter” is gay, sparkling, and pervaded by a delicious tone of 
quiet humor, while the individuality of the characters is very marked. The mother 
travels all over Europe to find a desirable parti for her pretty daughter, who has a toler- 
able dowry, but alas! husband after husband slips through tlie meshes of the net woven 
by the mother. Suffice it to say, that the book will be read and enjoyed by thousands. 

Above books are 75 Cents each in paper cover, or $1.25 in cloth, black and gold. 

A Friend; or, L’Ami. A Story of Every-Day Life. By Henry Greville, author 
of “Sonia,” and “ Saveli’s Expiation.” Translated in Paris by Miss Helen Stanley. 

The story of “A Friend,” is one of every-day life in Paris at the present day, and 
show's Henry Greville’s great talent and peculiar skill in the analysis of character. She 
draws her characters remarkably well, and this tender and touching picture of French 
home-life will touch many hearts, as it show's how the love of a true and good woman 
will meet with its reward and triumph at the last, in the value of true, enduring love. 

Sonia. A Russian Story. By JPnry Greville , author of “Saveli’s Expiation,” 
“ Marrying Off a Daughter,” “ Gabrielle,” etc. Translated by Mary Neal Sherwood. 

“ Sonia,” is charming and refined, and is a powerful, graceful, domestic story, display- 
ing the author’s imaginative style and play of fancy, and is charmingly and most beauti- 
fully told — giving one a very distinct idea of every-day home life in Russia. 

Saveli’s Expiation. By Henry Greville. A dramatic and powerful novel, and 
a pure love story. Translated from the French , by Mat y Neal Sherivood. 

One of the most dramatic and most powerful novels ever published is “ Sav£ li’s Expi- 
ation,” and although the character on which the plot rests is strongly drawn, it is not 
overdrawn, but is true to the times and situation. Powerful as it is, it is free from 
exaggeration, w'hile a pathetic love story is presented for relief. 

Gabrielle; or. The Mouse of Maureze. Translated from the French of 

Henry Griville, the most popular w'riter in Europe at the present time. 

“Gabrielle; or, The House of Maur£ze,” is a very touching story, most skil- 
fully told, and fol low's the life of a girl whose title it bears; but if w r e were to tell 
any more of the plot it would be to tell the story, so we advise all persons to get the 
book, and read it. 

Four last are 50 Cents each in paper cover, or $1.00 in cloth, black and gold. 

Ig^^&ore Books are for sale by all Booksellers , or copies will be sent to 
any place , at once , per mail, post-paid, on remitting price to the publishers , 

T. B. PETERSON & BROTHERS, 

306 Chestnut St., Philadelphia, Pa. 


59 


NEW AND BEAUTIFUL EDITIONS, JUST READY. 

Each Work in this Series is Unabridged and Complete. 


FANCHON ; THE CRICKET; or, “LA PETITE FADETTEP By George 
Sand. The Play of “ Fanchon, the Cricket,” as acted on the stage, was 
dramatized from this hook . Translated from the French. One volume, duo- 
decimo. Fine edition, in vellum, gilt and black, price $1.50: or a cheaper 
edition, in square 12mo. form, uniform with “ Kathleen,” “ Theo,” etc., in 
paper cover, price Fifty Cents. 

CONSUELO . A Novel. By George Sand. Translated from the French, by 
Fayette Robinson. One volume, duodecimo, cloth, gilt. Price $1.50. A cheaper 
edition is also published in one large octavo volume, paper cover, price 75 cents. 

THE CO UNTESS OF RUDOLSTADT. A Sequel to “Consuelo.” By George 
Sand. Translated from the French, by Fayette Robinson. One volume, 
duodecimo, cloth, gilt. Price $1.50. A cheaper edition is also published in 
one large octavo volume, paper cover, price 75 cents. 

INDIANA, A Love Story. By George Sand. With a Life of Madame Dudevant, 
(George Sand,) and translated from the French, by George W. Richards. One 
volume, duodecimo, cloth, gilt. Price $1.50. 

JEALOUSY ; or , TEVERINO. By George Sand. With a Biography of the 
Distinguished Authoress, and translated from the French, by Oliver S. Leland. 
One volume, duodecimo, cloth, gilt. Price $1.50. 

FIRST AND TRUE LOVE. By George Sand. Translated from the French. 
With Eleven Illustrative Engravings, including Portraits of “ Monsieur An- 
toine,” “Gilberte de Chateaubrun,” “ Mademoiselle Janille,” “ Emile Cardon- 
net,” “Jean Jappeloup, the Carpenter,” and “ Monsieur and Madame Cardon- 
net.” One volume, octavo. Price 75 cents in paper cover, or $1.00 in cloth. 

SIMON. A Love Story. By George Sand. Translated from the French. One 
volume, octavo, paper cover. Price 50 cents. 

I THE LAST ALDINI A Love Story. By George Sand. Translated from the 
French. One volume, octavo, paper cover. Price 50 cents. 

THE CORSAIR. A Venetian Tale. By George Sand. Translated from the 
French. One volume, octavo, paper cover. Price 50 cents. 


Above Books are for sale by all Booksellers and News Agents , or copies will be 
tent to any place , at once , per mail , post-paid, on remitting price to the Publishers , 

T. B. PETERSON & BROTHERS, 

80G Chestnut Street, Philadelphia, Pa, 


67 


Emile Zola’s Great Book. 


HELENE 

A laOIFE EPISdBE. 

(UNE PAGE D’AMOUR) 

JBTT EmiLE ZOLA. 

AUTHOR OF “ L’ASSOMMOIR,” ETC., ETC. 

TRANSLATED PROM THE TRENCH BY MARY NEAL SHERWOOD. 


“Emile Zola” is one of the four great authors in France of the present day, and 
there he is called the cleverest of the four. His novel, “ L’Assommoir,” to be issued in 
a few days by us, has already passed through fifty-eight editions in Paris, and this one, 
which is extremely interesting — indeed, exciting— just issued there, has already passed 
into its thirty-eighth edition. One of the most noted literary editors in New Y ork writes 
as follows to Mrs. Sherwood: “1 have just finished reading, and return to you by 
mail, your advance copy of ‘Zola's 7 extraordinary book, ‘Helene . 7 It is admi- 
rably written, and is full of powerful and life-like delineations of character, and in 
this respect surpasses any of his preceding publications, and yon, with your skill, 
will have no difficulty in rendering it into pure English. By all means translate it at 
once, and your publishers will have the honor of introducing the cleverest book as 
well as a new and the greatest writer of the day to the American public. 77 And in a 
letter just received by Mrs. Sherwood from one of the most celebrated critics in 
Paris, he says: “ Why do you not translate ‘ Zola’s 7 new book, ‘ Helene , 7 at once? 
It is the great sensation over here. The book is admirably written by a truly great 
artist, with a powerful realism and absorbing interest, and would be a splendid card 
for you to play, and would prove to be a great success in America. The characters 
and scenes of the story are well conceived and well executed, and it is impossible to 
deny the author’s great skill, and every reader will acknowledge ‘Zola’s 7 great power 
in ‘ Helene . 7 Besides the story, there are many pages devoted to rapturous descrip- 
tions of Paris at sunrise, at noonday, at sunset, and at night. Zola has made his name 
famous, and he will find plenty of readers for all he writes. His name alone will 
make any book sell. 77 

Paper Cover, 75 Cents. Morocco Cloth, Gilt and Black, $1.25. 


The above book is printed on tinted paper , and is issued in square 12 mo. 
form , in uniform shape with “ Theo ” “Kathleen” “Miss G'espigny” “A Quiet Life” 
and “Pretty Polly Pemberton” by Mrs. Burnett , and is for sale by all Booksellers , or 
copies will be sent to any one , at once , post-paid , on remitting price to the Publishes, 

T. B. PETERSON & BROTHERS, 

306 Chestnut Street, Philadelphia, Pa. 


52 



NEW AND BEAUTIFUL EDITIONS, JUST READY. 

Each Work is complete and unabridged, in one large volume. 

All or any will be sent free of postage, everywhere, to all, on receipt of remittances. 

Mysteries of the Court of Eondon; being THE MYSTERIES OF THE COURT OF 
GEORGE THE THIRD, with the Life and Times of the PRINCE OF WALES, afterward GEORGE 
THE FOURTH. Complete in one large volume, bound in cloth, price $1.75 ; or in paper cover, price $1.00. 

Rose Foster ; or, the “ Second Series of the Mysteries of the Court of London.” Complete in one 
large volume, bound in cloth, price $1.75 ; or in paper cover, price $1.50. 

Caroline of Brunswick; or, the “Third Series of the Mysteries of the Court of London.” 
Complete in one large volume, bound in cloth, price $1.75; or in paper cover, price $1.00. 

Venetia Trelawney ; being the “Fourth Series or final conclusion of the Mysteries of the Court 
of London.” Complete in one large volume, bound in cloth, price $1.75 ; or in paper cover, price $1.00. 

Eord Saxondale; or, The Court of Queen Victoria. Complete in one large volume, bound in 
cloth, price $1.75 ; or in paper cover, price $1.00. 

Count Christo vafl. The “Sequel to Lord Saxondale.” Complete in one largo volume, bound 
in cloth, price $1.75 ; or in paper cover, price $1.00. 

Rosa ILambert; or, The Memoirs of an Unfortunate Woman. Completo in ono large volume, 
bound in cloth, price $1.75 ; or in paper cover, price $1.00. 

Joseph Wilmot; or, The Memoirs of a Man Servant. Complete in one large volume, bound in 
cloth, price $1.75; or in paper cover, price $1.00. 

Title Banker’s Slaughter. A Sequel to “Joseph Wilmot.” Completo in ono large volume, 
bound in cloth, price $1.75; or in paper cover, price $1.00. 

Tile Rye-Mouse Plot; or, Ruth, the Conspirator’s Daughter. Complete in one large volume, 
bound in cloth, price $1.75; or in paper cover, price $1.00. 

The Necromancer. Being the Mysteries of the Court of Henry the Eighth. Complete in 
one large volume, bound in cloth, price $1.75; or in paper cover, price $1.00. 

Mary Price ; or, The Adventures of a Servant Maid. One vol., cloth, price $1.75 ; or in paper, $1 00. 
Eustace Quentin. A “Sequel to Mary Price.” One vol., cloth, price $1.75; or in paper, $1.00. 
The Mysteries of the Court of Naples. Price $1.00 in paper cover; or $1.75 in cloih. 
Kenneth. A Romance of the Highlands. One vol., cloth, price $1.75; or in paper cover, $1.00. 
Wallace: the Hero of Scotland. Illustrated with 38 plates. Paper, $1 .CO ; cloth, $1.75. 
The Gipsy Chief. Beautifully Illustrated. Price $1.00 in paper cover, or $1.75 in cloth. 
Robert Bruce: the Mero 5£iBng of Scotland. Illustrated. Paper, $1.00; cloth, $1.75. 
The Opera Dancer ; or, The Mysteries of London Life. Price 75 cents. 

Isabella Vincent; or, The Two Orphans. One large octavo volume. Price 75 cents. 
Vivian Bertram ; or, A Wife’s Honor. A Sequel to “Isabella Vincent.” Price 75 cents. 
The Countess of Eascelles. The Continuation to “Vivian 1 ertram.” Price 75 cents. 
Duke of Marchmont. Being the Conclusion of “ The Countess of Lascelles.” Price 75 cents. 
The Child of Waterloo; or. The Horrors of the Battle Field. Price 75 cents. 

Pickwick. Abroad. A Companion to the “Pickwick Papers,” by “Boz.” Price 75 cents. 
The Countess and the Ihi^e. One large octavo volume. Price 75 cents. 

‘Mary Stuart, Cfcueen of Scots. Complete in one large octavo volume. Price 75 cents. 
The Soldier’s Wife. Illustrated. Ono large octavo volume. Price 75 cents. 

May Middleton ; or, The History of a Fortune. In one large octavo volume. Price 75 cents. 
The Loves of the llarean. One large octavo volume. Price 75 cents. 

Ellen Percy; or, The Memoirs of an Actress. One huge octavo volume. Price 75 cents. 

The fl>iscarded Queen. One large octavo volume. Price 75 cenis. 

Agnes Evelyn ; or, Beauty and Pleasure. One large octavo v< lume. Price 75 cents. 

The Massacre of Glencoe. One large octavo volume. Price 75 cents. 

The Parricide; or, Youth’s Career in Crime. Beautifully Illustrated. Price 75 cents. 
Ciprina; or. The Secrets of a Picture Gallery. Ono volume. Price 50 cents. 
The Ruined Gaanester. With Illustrations. One large octavo volume. Price £0 cents. 
Eife in Paris. Handsomely illustrated. One large octavo volume. Price 50 cents. 

' Clifford and the Actress. One large octavo volume. Price 50 cents. 

Edgar Montrose. One large octavo volume. Price 50 cents. 

70^ The above works will be found for sale by all Booksellers and News Agents. 

Copies of any one , or more , or all of Reynolds 9 works, will be sent to any place, 
at once , post-paid, on remitting price of ones wanted to the Publishers, 

T. B. FETERSOX BROTHERS, Philadelphia, Fa, 


ALEXANDER DUMAS’ GREAT WORKS. 


All or any will be sent free of postage, everywhere, to all, on receipt of remittances. 

The Count of Monte-Cristo. With elegant illustrations, and portraits of Edmond Dantes, 
Mercedes, and Fernand. Price $1.50 in paper cover; or $1.75 in cloth. 

Edmond Bantes. A Sequel to the “Count of Monte-Cristo.” In one large octavo volume. 
Price 75 cents in paper cover, or a finer edition, bound in cloth, for $1.75. 

The Countess of Monte-Cristo. With a portrait of the “Countess of Monte-Cristo ” on 
the cover. One large octavo volume, paper cover, price $1.00; or bound in cloth, for $1.75. 

The Tltree Guardsmen; or, The Three Mousquetaires. In one large octavo 
volume. Price 75 cents in paper cover, or a finer edition in cloth, for $1.75. 

Twenty Years After. A Sequel to the “ Three Guardsmen.” In one large octavo volume. 
Price 75 cents in paper cover, or a finer edition, in one volume, cloth, for $1.75. 

Bragelonne ; the Son of Athos. Being the continuation of “ Twenty Years After.” In 
one large octavo volume. Price 75 cents in paper cover, or a finer edition in cloth, for $1.75. 

The Iron Mash. Being the continuation of the “Three Guardsmen,” “Twenty Years After,” 
and “ Bragelonne.” In one large octavo volume. Paper cover, $1.00; or in cloth, for $1.75. 

lionise Ba Valliere; or, the Second Series of the “Iron Mask,” and end of “The Three 
Guardsmen” series. In one large octavo volume. Paper cover, $1.00; or in cloth, for $1.75. 

The Memoirs of a Physician; or, The Secret History of the Court of Louis the Fifteenth. 
Beautifully Illustrated. In one large octavo volume. Paper cover, $1.00; or in cloth, for $1.75. 

The Queen’s Xecklace; or, The “Second Series of the Memoirs of a Physician.” In one 
large octavo volume. Paper cover, price $1.00 ; or in one volume, cloth, for $1.75. 

Six Years Bater; or, Taking of the Bastile. Being the “Third Series of the Memoirs of a 
Physician.” In one large octavo volume. Paper cover, $1.00; or in cloth, for $1.75. 

Countess of Charny ; or, The Fall of the French Monarchy. Being the “Fourth Series of 
the Memoirs of a Physician.” In one largo octavo volume. Paper cover, $1.00; or in cloth, for $1.75. 

Andree de Taverney. Being tho “ Fifth Series of the Memoirs of a Physician.” In one 
large octavo volume. Paper cover, price $1.00 ; or in one volume, cloth, for $1.75. 

The Chevalier; or, the “Sixth Series and final conclusion of the Memoirs of a Physician 
Series.” In one largo octavo volume. Price $1.00 in paper cover ; or $1.75 in cloth. 

Joseph Balsasno. Dumas’ greatest work, from which the play of “Joseph Balsamo” was 
dramatized, by his son, Alexander Dumas, Jr. Price $1.00 in paper cover, or $1.50 in cloth. 

The Conscript; or. The Days of the First Napoleon. An Historical Novel. In 
one large duodecimo volume. Price $1.50 in paper cover; or in cloth, for $1.75. 

Camille; or. The Fate of a Coquette. (“ La Dame aux Camelias.”) This is tho only 
true and complete translation of “ Camille,” and it is from this translation that the Play of “ Camille,” 
and the Opera of “La Traviata” was adapted to tho Stage. Paper cover, price $1.50; or in cloth, $1.75. 

]Love and Liberty; or, A Man of the People. (Rene Besson.) A Thrilling Story 
of the French Revolution of 1792-93. In one large duodecimo volume, paper cover, $1.50; cloth, $1.75. 

The Adventures of a Marquis. Paper cover, $1.00; or in one volume, cloth, for $1.75. 

The Forty-Five Guardsmen. Paper cover, $1.00; or in one volume, cloth, for $1.75. 

Diana of Meridor. Paper cover, $1.00; or in one volume, cloth, for $1.75. 

The Iron Hand. Price $1.00 in paper cover, or in one volume, cloth, for $1.75. 

Isabel of Bavaria, Queen of France. In one large octavo volume. Price 75 cents. 

Annette; or. The ILady of the Pearls. A Companion to “Camille.” Price 75 cents. 

The Fallen Angel. A Story of Love and Life in Paris. One large volume. Price 75 cents. 

The Mohicans of Paris. In one large octavo volume. Price 75 cents. 

The Horrors of Paris. In one large octavo volume. Price 75 cents. 

The Man with Five Wives. In one large octavo volume. Price 75 cents. 

Sketches in France. In one large octavo volume. Price 75 cents. 

Felina de Ohambnre; or. The Female Fiend. Price 75 cents. 

The Twin Lieutenants; or, The Soldier’s Bride. Price 75 cents. 

Madame de Chamblay. In one large octavo volume. Price 50 cents. 

The Black Tuli|». In one large octavo volume. Price 50 cents. 

The Corsican Brothers. In one large octavo volume. Price 50 cents. 

George; or. The Planter of the Isle of France. Price 50 cents. 

The Fount of Moret. In one large octavo volume. Price 50 cents. 

The Marriage Verdict. In one large octavo volume. Price 50 cents. 

Buried Alive. In one large octavo volume. Price 25 cents. 

Above hoolcs are for sale by all Booksellers and News Agents , or copies of ary 
one or more } will be sent to any one y post-paid , on remitting price to the Publishers , 

T. B. PETERSON & BROTHERS, Philadelphia, Pa. 


Henry Greville’s Greatest Novel. 


PRETTY LITTLE COUNTESS ZINK. 

A RUSSIAN STORY. 

BY IIHKRY QRI3VII.LE. 

AUTHOR OF “DOSIA,” “ MARRYING OFF A DAUGHTER,” “SAVELI’S EXPIATION,” 
“ SONIA,” “A FRIEND,” AND “ GABRIELLE.” 

TRANSLATED PROM THE FRENCH BY MARY NEAL SHERWOOD. 

Paper Cover, 75 Cent9. Morocco Cloth, Gilt and Black, $1.25. 

“Pretty Little Countess Zina” is a careful study of the Countess Koumias- 
sine, who, in the most unconscious manner, continues to make all about her very 
wretched by her arbitrary rule and love of power. Zina, the daughter, and youthful 
Countess, bears a certain resemblance to Dosia — that bewitching creature — in her 
dainty wilfulness, while the ward and cousin, Yassalissa, is a new creation. Mrs. Sher- 
wood has the talent, most rare in a translator, of placing herself fully en rapport with 
the authors with whom she deals. It is therefore unnecessary to say that her part of 
this most charming tale is thoroughly well done, while the publishers deserve immense 
credit for their exertions in making the American public familiar with the best French 
literature, and we wish them all possible success in their enterprise. — Critic. 

HENRY GREVILLE’S GREAT WORKS. 

PRETTY LITTLE COUNTESS ZINA. By Henry Greville, author of “Dosia,” 
“Saveli’s Expiation,” and “ Gabrielle.” Price 75 cents in paper, or $1.25 in cloth. 

DOSIA. By Henry Greville , author of “Saveli’s Expiation,” “Marrying Off a 
Daughter,” “ Sonia,” and “ Gabrielle.” Price 75 cents in paper, or $1.25 in cloth. 

MARRYING OFF A DAUGHTER. By Henry Greville , author of “ Dosia,” “ Save- 
li's Expiation,” “ Sonia,” and “ Gabrielle.” Price 75 cents in paper, or $1.25 in cloth. 

SAVELI’S EXPIATION. By Henry Greville. A. dramatic and powerful novel of 
Russian life, and a pure, pathetic love story. Price 50 cts. in paper, or $1.00 in cloth. 

SONIA. A Russian Story. By Henry Gr'eville, author of “ Saveli’s Expiation,” 
“ Dosia,” and “ Marrying Off a Daughter.” Price 50 cents in paper, or $1.00 in cloth. 

A FRIEND; or, L’AMIE. By Henry Greville, author of “Saveli’s Expiation,” 
* Dosia,” and “ Marrying Off a Daughter.” Price 50 cents in paper, or $1.00 in cloth. 

GABRIELLE ; or, THE HOUSE OF MAUREZE. By Henry Gr'eville, author of 
“ Dosia,” “ A Friend,” “ Saveli’s Expiation.” Price 50 cts. in paper, or $1.00 in cloth. 

The above Books are printed on tinted paper, and are issued in uniform style 
with “Theo,” “Kathleen,” “Miss Crespigny,” “A Quiet Life” “Lindsay’s Luck,” and 
“Pretty Polly Pemberton,” by Mrs . Burnett, and are for sale by all Booksellers , or 
copies will be sent to any one , at once , post-paid, on remitting price to the Publishers , 

72 T, B. PETERSON BROTHERS, Philadelphia, Pa. 


Mrs. Southworth’s Works. 

EACH IS IN ONE LARGE DUODECIMO VOLUME, MOROCCO CLOTH, GILT BACK, PRICE $1.75 EACH. 
All or any will be sent free of postage, everywhere, to all, on receipt of remittances. 

ISHMAEL; or, IN THE DEPTHS. (Being “Self-Made; or, Out of Depths.”) 
SELF-RAISED; or, From the Depths. The Sequel to “Ishmael.” 

THE PHANTOM WEDDING ; or, the Fall of the House of Flint. 

THE “ MOTHER-IN-LAW ;” or, MARRIED IN HASTE. 

THE MISSING BRIDE; or, MIRIAM, THE AVENGER. 

VICTOR’S TRIUMPH. The Sequel to “A Beautiful Fiend.’' 

A BEAUTIFUL FIEND; or, THROUGH THE FIRE. 

THE LADY OF THE ISLE; or, THE ISLAND PRINCESS. 

FAIR PLAY; or, BRITOMARTE, THE MAN-HATER. 

HOW HE WON HER. The Sequel to “Fair Play.” 

THE CHANGED BRIDES ; or, Winning Her Way. 

THE BRIDE’S FATE. The Sequel to “The Changed Brides” 
CRUEL AS THE GRAVE; or, Hallow Eve Mystery. 

TRIED FOR HER LIFE. The Sequel to “ Cruel as the Grave.” 

THE CHRISTMAS GUEST; or, The Crime and the Curse. 

THE LOST HEIR OF LINLITHGOW; or, The Brothers. 

A NOBLE LORD. The Sequel to “The Lost Heir of Linlithgow.” 
THE FAMILY DOOM; or, THE SIN OF A COUNTESS. 

THE MAIDEN WIDOW. The Sequel to “The Family Doom.” 

THE GIPSY’S PROPHECY; or, The Bride of an Evening. 

THE FORTUNE SEEKER; or, Astrea, The Bridal Day. 

THE THREE BEAUTIES ; or, SHANNONDALE. 

FALLEN PRIDE; or, THE MOUNTAIN GIRL’S LOVE. 

THE DISCARDED DAUGHTER; or, The Children of the Isle. 

THE PRINCE OF DARKNESS; or, HICKORY HALL. 

THE TWO SISTERS; or, Virginia and Magdalene. 

THE FATAL MARRIAGE; or, ORVILLE DEVILLE. 

INDIA ; or, THE PEARL OF PEARL RIVER. THE CURSE OF CLIFTON. 

THE WIDOW’S SON; or, LEFT ALONE. 

THE MYSTERY OF DARK HOLLOW. 

ALLWORTH ABBEY; or, EUDORA. 

THE BRIDAL EVE; or, ROSE ELMER. 

VIVIA ; or, THE SECRET OF POWER. 

THE HAUNTED HOMESTEAD. 

BRIDE OF LLEWELLYN. THE DESERTED WIFE. RETRIBUTION. 


THE WIFE’S VICTORY. 
THE SPECTRE LOVER. 

THE ARTIST’S LOVE. 
THE FATAL SECRET. 

LOVE’S LABOR WON. 
THE LOST HEIRESS. 


Mrs. Southworth’ s works will be found for sale by all Booksellers. 

Copies of any one , or more of Mrs. Sonthivorth’ s works , will be sent to any 
place, at once , per mail, post-paid, on remitting price of ones wanted to the Publishers, 

T. B. PETERSON & BROTHERS, Philadelphia, Pa. 


JggT' The following New Books are printed on tinted paper, and are issued in uniform 
style , in square 12 mo. form. Price Fifty Cents each in Paper Cover , or One Dollar each 
•in Morocco Cloth , Black and Gold. They are the most charming Novels ever printed. 


KATHLEEN. A Love Story. By Mrs. Frances Hodgson Burnett , author of 
“ Theo,” “ Miss Crespigny,” and “ Pretty Polly Pemberton,” etc. 

“THEO.” A Love Story. By Mrs . Frances Hodgson Burnett , author of “Kath- 
leen,” “ Pretty Polly Pemberton,” “ Miss Crespigny,” “A Quiet Life,” etc. 

PRETTY POLLY PEMBERTON. A Powerful Love Story. By Mrs. Frances Hodg- 
son Burnett , author of “ Theo,” “ Kathleen,” and “ Miss Crespigny.” 

MISS CRESPIGNY. A Charming Love Story. By Mrs. Frances Hodgson Bur - 
nett , author of “ Theo,” “ Kathleen,” “ Jarl’s Daughter,” and “ A Quiet Life.” 

A QUIET LIFE. By Mrs. Frances Hodgson Burnett , author of “ Theo,” “ Kath- 
leen,” “ Pretty Polly Pemberton,” “ Miss Crespigny,” “JarFs Daughter,” etc. 

A FRIEND; or, L’AMI. By Henry Gr'eville, author of “ Sonia,” “ Saveli’s Expia- 
tion,” and “ Marrying Off a Daughter.” Translated by Miss Helen Stanley. 

SONIA. A Russian Story. By Henry Grtville , author of “ Marrying Off a 
Daughter,” “ Saveli’s Expiation,” “ Gabrielle.” Translated by Mary Neal Sherwood. 

SAVELI’S EXPIATION. By Henry Gr'eville. A dramatic and powerful novel of 
Russian life, and a pure, pathetic love story. Translated by Mary Neal Sherwood. 

GABRIELLE; or, THE HOUSE OF MAUREZE. By Henry Greville, author of 
“ Saveli’s Expiation,” “Dosia,” “ Marrying Off a Daughter,” etc. 

A WOMAN’S MISTAKE; or, JACQUES DE TREVANNES. A Charming Love 
Story. From the French of Madame AngUe Bussaud, by Mary Neal Sherwood. 

MADAME POMPADOUR’S GARTER; or, THE DAYS OF MADAME POMPA- 
DOUR. A Romance of the Reign of Louis XV. By Gabrielle Be St. Andre. 

THE MATCHMAKER. A Charming Novel. By Beatrice Reynolds. All the 
characters and scenes in it have all the freshness of life, and ail the vitality of truth. 

TWO WAYS TO MATRIMONY ; or, IS IT LOVE ? or, FALSE PRIDE. A book 
for Ladies and Gentlemen; for Parents, and for all those contemplating Matrimony. 

THAT GIRL OF MINE. A Love Story. By the author of 11 That Lover of Mine.” 
It is one of the most brilliant novels of Washington City society ever issued. 

THE RED HILL TRAGEDY. A Novel. By Mrs. Emma B. E. N. Southworth , 
author of “Ishmael,” “Self-Raised,” “ The Mother-in-Law,” etc. 

THE AMOURS OF PHILLIPPE. A History of “ Phillippe’s Love Affairs.” 
By Octave Feuillet , author of “ The Count de Camors, the Man of the Second Empire.” 

BESSIE’S SIX LOVERS. A Charming Love Story, of the purest and best kind. 

THAT LOVER OF MINE. A Love Story. By author of i( That Girl of Mine.” 

STORY OF “ELIZABETH.” By Miss Thackeray, daughter of W. M. Thackeray. 

Above Books are 50 Cents each in Paper Cover, or $1.00 each in Cloth. 

mm* Above Books are for sale by all Booksellers and News Agents , or copies of any 
one or more , will be sent to any place , post-paid , on remitting price to the publishers , 

T. B. PETERSON «& BROTHERS, Philadelphia, Pa. 


NEW AND POPULAR BOOKS 

BY THE BEST AUTHORS, FOR SALE BY ALL BOOKSELLERS, AND PUBLISHED BY 

T. B. PETERSON & BROTHERS, PHILADELPHIA. 


PHILOMENE’S MARRIAGES. With a Preface by the Author. By Henry Gre- 
ville, author of “ Dosia.” Price 75 cents in paper cover, or $1.25 in cloth. 

PRETTY LITTLE COUNTESS ZINA. By Henry Gr'evilie, author of “ Dosia,” and 
“ Saveli’s Expiation.” Price 75 cents in paper cover, or $1.25 in cloth. 

JARL’S DAUGHTER; AND OTHER TALES. By Mrs. Frances Hodgson Burnett , 
author of “ Theo,” “ Kathleen,” and “ Miss Crespigny.” Paper cover, price 25 cents. 

LINDSAY’S LUCK. A Love Story. By Mrs. Frances Hodgson Burnett , author of 
“ Theo,” “ Kathleen,” and “Pretty Polly Pemberton.” Paper cover, price 25 cents. 

FATHER TOM AND THE POPE ; or, A.NIGHT AT THE VATICAN. With Illus- 
trations of scenes between the Pope and Father Tom. Paper, 50 cents, cloth, $1.00. 

THE COUNT DE CAMORS. The Man of the Second Empire. By Octave Feuillet, 
author of “Amours of Phillippe.” Price 75 cents in paper cover, or $1.25 in cloth. 

SYEIL BR0THERT0N. By Mrs. E. D. E. N. Southworth , author of “ Ishmael ,” 
“ Self* Raised,” etc. Price 50 cents in paper cover, or $1.00 in cloth, black and gold. 

THE ABBE’S TEMPTATION. A Love Story. By Emile Zola , author of “ HeRne .” 
His Greatest Work. Price 75 cents in paper cover, or $1.25 in cloth, black and gold. 

THE SWAMP DOCTOR’S ADVENTURES IN THE SOUTH-WEST. With Fourteen 
Illustrations by Darley. Morocco cloth, gilt and black. Price $1.50. 

THE SHADOW OF HAMPTON MEAD. A Charming Story. By Elizabeth Van 
Loon , author of “A Heart Twice Won.” Cloth, black and gold. Price $1.50. 

A HEART TWICE WON; or, SECOND LOVE. By Mrs. Elizabeth Van Loon , 
author of “The Shadow of Hampton Mead.” Cloth, black and gold. Price $1.50. 

HELENE. A Tale of Love, Passion and Remorse. By Emile Zola , author of “ The 
Abba’s Temptation.” Price 75 cents in paper cover, or $1.25 in cloth. 

MADELEINE. A Charming Love Story. By Jules Sandeau. Crowned by the 
French Academy. Uniform with “ Dosia.” Paper cover. Price 50 cents. 

DOS I A.. A Russian Story. By Henry Gr faille, author of “ Marrying Off a Daughter,” 
“Saveli’s Expiation,” and “ Gabrielle.” Price 75 cents in paper, or $1.25 in cloth. 

MARRYING OFF A DAUGHTER. A Love Story. By Henry Gr'evilie , author of 
“ Dosia,” and “ Saveli’s Expiation.” Price 75 cents in paper, or $1.25 in cloth. 

CARMEN. By Prosper M'erimee, from which the opera of “Carmen” was drama- 
tized. Uniform with “ Kathleen,” etc. Price 50 cents in paper, or $1.00 in cloth. 

COLONEL THORPE’S SCENES IN ARKANSAW. With Sixteen Illustrations, 
from Original Designs by Darley. Morocco cloth, gilt and black. Price $1.50. 

FANCHON, THE CRICKET; or, LA PETITE FADETTE. By George Sand. This 
is the original work from which the play of “Fanchon, the Cricket ,” as presented on 
the stage, was dramatized. Price 50 cents in paper cover, or a finer edition, in a larger 
duodecimo volume, bound in morocco cloth, black and gold, price $1.50. 

Above Books are for sale by all Booksellers and News Agents , or copies of any 
one or more , will be sent to any place , post-paid , on remitting price to the publishers , 

T. B. PETERSON & BROTHERS, Philadelphia, Pa. 


** It Is worth double its price.” — Ottawa , (Canada), Advertiser . 


OHE APBSTAFD BESTIR 

PETERSON'S MAGAZINE 


f ^“FULL-SIZE PAPER PATTERNS I *® 3 


4^* A Supplement will be given in every number for 1870, containing a full.sizc pattern sheet for a 
lady's, or child's dress. Every subscriber will receive, during the year, twelve of these patterns, so that these 
alone will be worth more than the subscription price. Great improvements will also be made in other re~ 
spects.^0 1 


“Peterson’s Magazine ” contains, every year, 1000 pages, 14 steel plates. 12 colored Berlin patterns, 
12 mammoth colored fashion plates, 24 pages of music, and about 900 wood cuts. Its principal embel- 
lishments are 


SUPERB STEEL ENGRAVINGS ! 


Its immense circulation enables its proprietor to spend more on embellishments, stories, Ac. than 
any other. It gives mure for the money , and combines more merits, than any in the world. Its 


VMRttMft-G TALKS AN® RWBUETTKS 


Are the best published anywhere. All the most popular writers are employed to write originally for* 
4i Peterson." In 1879, in addition to the usual quantity of short stories, FIVE ORIGINAL COPYRIGHT 
NOVELETTES will be given, by Ann S. Stephens, Frank Lee Benedict, Frances Hodgson Burnett, 
Jane G. Austin, and that unrivalled humorist, the author of “ Josiah Allen’s Wife.” 


mm 





Ahead of all others. These plates are engraved on steel, twice the usual size, and are unequalled for 
beauty. They will be superbly colored. Also, Household and other receipts; articles on “Wax-Work 
Flowers,” “Management of Infants;” in short everything interesting to ladies. 

JV. B. — As the publishers now prepay the postage to all mail subscribers , “ Peterson ” is cheaper than 
ever; in fact is the cheapest in the world 

— 


TERMS (Always in Advance) $2.00 A YEAR. 


«3-stBxrarcEsxa prices to clubs/o 


2 Copies for $3.50 

3 “ 44 4.50 


* 

C With a copy of the premium picture (24 x 20) “ Christ Blessing 

! Little Children,” a five dollar enaraving , to the person getting up 
I the Club. 


4 Copies for $6-5 O 

G “ “ 9.00 


With an extra copy of the Magazine for 1879, as a premium, to 
the person getting up the Club. 


5 Copies for @8.00 
7 ft “ 10.50 


With both an extra copy of the Magazine for 1879, and the 
premium picture, a five dollar engraving, to the person getting up 
the Club. 


Address, post-paid, 


CHARLES J. PETERSON, 

30G Chestnut St., Philadelphia, Vr, 


J0©** Specimens sent gratis if written for. 





MRS. BURNETT’S CHARMING STORIES. 

FOR SALE BY ALL BOOKSELLERS, AND PUBLISHED BY 

T. B. Peterson & Brothers, Philadelphia. 

BEING- REPRINTED FROM 44 PETERSON’S MAGAZINE,” FOR WHICH 
THEY WERE ALL ©RIGINAEEY WRITTEN. 

The following Charming Stories were all written by Mrs. Frances 
Hodgson Burnett , and each one is printed on tinted paper, the whole being 
issued in uniform shape and style , in square Ylmo. form, being seven of 
the best, most interesting, and choicest love stories ever written . 


65 THEO.” A Love Story, By Mrs. Frances Hodgson Burnett , 
author of “-Kathleen,” “Pretty Polly Pemberton,” “Miss 
Crespigny,” “A Quiet Life,” and “ Lindsay’s Luck.” 

KATHLEEN. A Love Story, By Mrs. Frances Hodgson Bur- 
nett , author of “ Theo,” “ Miss Crespigny,” “Jarl’s Daughter,” 
“A Quiet Life,” and “ Pretty Polly Pemberton.” 

A QUIET LIFE; and THE TIDE ON THE MOANING 
BAR. By Mrs. Frances Hodgson Burnett y author of “Theo.” 

MISS CRESPIGNY. A Powerful Love Story. By Mrs. Frances 
Hodgson Burnett , author of “ Theo,” “ Kathleen,” etc. 

PRETTY POLLY PEMBERTON. A Charming Love Story. 

By Mrs. Frances Hodgson Burnett , author of “ Kathleen.” 

Above are 50 Cents each in paper cover, or $1.00 each in cloth, black and gold. 

JARL’S DAUGHTER; and OTHER STORIES. By Mrs. 

Frances Hodgson Burnett , author of “ Theo,” “ Kathleen,” etc. 

LINDSAY’S LUCK. A Love Story. By Mrs. Frances Hodgson 
Burnett , author of “ Theo,” “ Kathleen,” “A Quiet Life,” etc. 

Above are each in one volume, paper cover, price 25 Cents each. 

Above Books are for sale by all Booksellers and News Agents, or 
copies of any one or all of them, will be sent to any place, at once, per 
mail, post-paid, on remitting price to the Publishers, 

T. B. PETERSOK & BROTHERS, 

300 Chestnut Street, Philadelphia, Pa. 


MRS. BURN ETT’S N EW BOOKS 

The following New Books are printed on tinted paper, and are issued in uniform style, 
% square 12 mo. farm. Price Fifty Cents each in Paper Cover, or One Dollar each in Morocco 
'loth, Black and Gold. They are Nineteen of the best and most charming Novels ever printed. 


A QUIET LIFE. By Mrs. Frances Hodgson Burnett, author of “ Theo,” “ Kathleen,” 
Pretty Polly Pemberton,” “ Miss Crespigny,” “ That Lass o’ Lowrie’s,” etc. 

KATHLEEN. A Love Story. By Mrs. Frances Hodgson Burnett, author of “ Theo,” 
Miss Crespigny,” “Pretty Polly Pemberton,” etc. It is the most charming of all love stories. 

“ THEO.” A Love Story. By Mrs . Frances Hodgson Burnett, author of “ Kathleen,” 
Pretty Polly Pemberton,” “ Miss Crespigny,” “ A Quiet Life,” etc. 

MISS CRESPIGNY. A Charming Love Story. By Mrs. Frances Hodgson Burnett, 
uthor of “ Theo,” “ Kathleen,” “ A Quiet Life,” “ Pretty Polly Pemberton,” etc. 


PRETTY POLLY PEMBERTON. A Powerful Love Story. By Mrs. Frances Hodgson 
himett, author of “ Theo,” “ Kathleen,” “ Miss Crespigny,” “ A Quiet Life,” etc. 

A FRIEND ; or, L’AIMEE. By Henry Greville, author of “ Sonia,” “ Saveli’s Expiation,” 
ad “ Marrying Off a Daughter.” Translated from the French , by Miss Helen Stanley. 


SONIA. A Russian Story. By Henry Greville, author of “ Marrying Off a Daughter,” 
Saveli's Expiation,” “ Gabrielle.” Translated from the French, by Mary Neal Sherwood. 

SAVELI’S EXPIATION. By Henry Greville. A dramatic and powerful novel of Russian 
fe, and a pure, pathetic love story. Translated from the French, by Mary Neal Sherwood. 


GABRIELLE ; or, THE HOUSE OF MAUREZE. By Henry Greville , author of “ Saveli’s 
xpiation,” the most popular writer in Europe at present. Translated from the French . 


A WOMAN’S MISTAKE; or, JACQUES DE TREVANNES. A Charming Love Story. 
translated from the French of Madame AngHe Dussaud, by Mary Neal Sherwood . 


MADAME POMPADOUR’S GARTER ; or, THE DAYS OF MADAME POMPADOUR. 

Thrilling and Historical Romance of the Reign of Louis XV. By Gabrielle De St. Andre . 


THE MATCHMAKER. A Charming Novel. By Beatrice Reynolds. All the pictures, 
laracters, and scenes in it have all the freshness of life, and all the vitality of truth. 


TWO WAYS TO MATRIMONY ; or, IS IT LOVE ? or, FALSE PRIDE. A book for all 
adies and Gentlemen ; as well as for all Parents, and all those contemplating Matrimony. 

THAT GIRL OF MINE. A Love Story. By the author of “That Lover of Mine.” It is 
le of the most brilliant society novels ever issued, and of fashionable society in Washington. 


THE RED HILL TRAGEDY. A Novel. By Mrs. Emma D. E. N. Southwoi'th, author 
• “ Ishmael,” “Self-Raised,” « Mother-in-Law,” “ The Phantom Wedding,” etc. 

THE AMOURS OF PHILLIPPE A History of “ Phillippe’s Love Affairs.” By 
ctave Feuillet. Complete and unabridged, and translated by Mary Neal Sherwood. 

BESSIE’S SIX LOVERS. A Charming Love Story, of the purest and best kind. 

THAT LOVER OF MINE. A Love Story. By the author of “ That Girl of Mine” 
THE STORY OF “ELIZABETH.” By Miss Thackeray, daughter of W. M. Thackeray. 

Above Books are 50 Cents each in Paper Cover, or $1.00 each in Cloth. 


Above Books are for sale by all Booksellers and News Agents , or copies of any one or 
l of them, vrill be sent to any one, at once, post-paid, on remitting price to the publishers , 


T. B, PETERSON & BROTHERS, Philadelphia, Pa. 


MRS. SOUTHWORTH’S WORKS 

EACH IS IN ONE LARGE DUODECIMO VOLUME, MOROCCO CLOTH, GILT BACK, PRICE $1.75 EACH. 
All or any will be sent free of postage, everywhere, to all, on receipt of remittances. 


ISHMAEL; or, IN THE DEPTHS. (Being “Self-Made; or, Out of the Depths.”) 
SELF-RAISED; or, From the Depths. The Sequel to “Ishmael.” 

THE PHANTOM WEDDING ; or, the Fall of the House of Flint. 

THE “MOTHER-IN-LAW;” or, MARRIED IN HASTE. 

THE MISSING BRIDE; or, MIRIAM, THE AVENGER. 

VICTOR’S TRIUMPH. The Sequel to “A Beautiful Fiend.” 

A BEAUTIFUL FIEND; or, THROUGH THE FIRE. 

THE LADY OF THE ISLE; or, THE ISLAND PRINCESS. 

FAIR PLAY; or, BRITOMARTE, THE MAN-HATER. 

HOW HE WON HER. The Sequel to “Fair Play.” 

THE CHANGED BRIDES ; or, Winning Her Way. 

THE BRIDE’S FATE. The Sequel to “The Changed Brides.” 
CRUEL AS THE GRAVE; or, Hallow Eve Mystery. 

TRIED FOR HER LIFE. The Sequel to “ Cruel as the Grave.” 

THE CHRISTMAS GUEST; or, The Crime and the Curse. 

THE LOST HEIR OF LINLITHGOW; or, The Brothers. 

A NOBLE LORD. The Sequel to “The Lost Heir of Linlithgow.” 
THE FAMILY DOOM; or, THE SIN OF A COUNTESS. 

THE MAIDEN WIDOW. The Sequel to “The Family Doom.” 

THE GIPSY’S PROPHECY; or, The Bride of an Evening. 

THE FORTUNE SEEKER; or, Astrea, The Bridal Day. 

THE THREE BEAUTIES; or, SHANNONDALE. 

FALLEN PRIDE; or, THE MOUNTAIN GIRL’S LOVE. 

THE DISCARDED DAUGHTER; or, The Children of the Isle. 

THE PRINCE OF DARKNESS; or, HICKORY HALL. 

THE TWO SISTERS ; or, Virginia and Magdalene. 


THE FATAL MARRIAGE; or, 
INDIA; or, THE PEARL OF PEARL RIVER. 

THE WIDOW’S SON; or, LEFT ALONE. 
THE MYSTERY OF DARK HOLLOW. 

ALLWORTH ABBEY ; or, EUDORA. 

THE BRIDAL EVE; or, ROSE ELMER. 

VIVIA; or, THE SECRET OF POWER. 
THE HAUNTED HOMESTEAD. 


ORVILLE DEVILLE. 

"HE CURSE OF CLIFTON. 

THE WIFE’S VICTORY 
THE SPECTRE LOVER. 

THE ARTIST’S LOVE. 
THE FATAL SECRET. 

LOVE’S LABOR WON. 
THE LOST HEIRESS. 


BRIDE OF LLEWELLYN. 


THE DESERTED WIFE. 


RETRIBUTION 


f&M* Mrs. Southworth’s works will be found, for sale by all Booksellers and News Agents. 

Copies of any one, or more, or all of Mrs. Southworth’s works, will be sent to any one, t 
any place, at once, per mail , post-paid, on remitting price of the ones wanted to the Publishers. 

D " 4 PETERSON & BROTHERS, Philadelphia, Pa. 

















































































































































































































































































































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